.V" 



V 



* A 




THE 

IF E OF 

REV. JuflN MURRAY, 

LATE MINISTER OF THE RECONCILIATION, AND SE- 
NIOR PASTOR OF THE UNIVERSALISTS, CON- 
GREGATED IN BOSTON 



WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 



THE RECORDS CONTAIN ANECDOTES OF THE WRITERS 7 INFANCY; 
AND ARE EXTENDED TO SOME YEARS AFTER THE COMMENCE- 
MENT OF HIS PUBLIC LABORS IN AMERICA. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED 

A BRIEF CONTINUATION TO THE CLOSING SCENE, 

To Christian Friends this Volume makes appeal 5 
Friends are indulgent — Christian Friends can febl 



FIFTH EDITION, STEREOTYPED AND IMPROVED, 
WITH NOTES AND APPENDIX, 

BY REV. L. S. EVERETT. 



BOSTON: 

MARSH, CAPEN and LYON 
1833. 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1833. 
by Marsh, Capen, Lyon, in the Clerk's office of 
the District Court of Massachusetts. 



PREFACE. 



The pages which compose the volume now pre- 
sented to the public, were originally designed only 
for the eye of a tender and beloved friend. 

They were written at the earnest request of one, 
to whom the author was endeared by many years of 
intimate friendship, and still more by those divine 
and soul-soothing tenets, of which it was his distin- 
guished lot to be ordained the promulgator. 

For those who, like this individual, have dwelt 
with rapture upon the blessed assurance of the 
boundless and enduring love of a redeeming God, 
as powerfully exhibited by those lips which rarely 
opened but to expatiate upon the glad tidings which 
was the theme of the angelic song : For those, who 
loved the philanthropic the inspired Preacher, for 
the sake of the glorious inspiration; these sheets will 
possess the strongest, and most important interest: 
To such, and to such only, they are addressed. It 
is in compliance with their solicitations that they 
are sent into the world, and it is not even expected 
that those who turned a deaf ear to his consolatory 
message, and who knew not the powers of his 
mighty mind, or the pure and exalted benevolence 
of his heart, will have any interest in inquiring, 
4 What manner of man was he who told these things 5 
nor what spirit he was of. ' 

Boston, May 2, 1816, 



PREFACE 

TO THE FIFTH EDITION. 



When the publishers, in compliance with the 
suggestions of several respectable and influential 
members of the denomination, adopted the plan of 
issuing neat and uniform editions of valuable works 
by Universalist authors, they had but few induce- 
ments to incur the expense of the undertaking, and 
many difficulties to encounter. At that time, ow- 
ing to the unpopularity of the doctrine, it could 
not have been reasonably expected that large edi- 
tions of any works devoted exclusively to the inter- 
ests of the order, would be disposed of ; and, as 
the only expedient that promised an ultimate in- 
demnification, they resolved to stereotype such as 
were deemed permanently useful, and publish, from 
time to time, such a number of copies as the 
demand should warrant, and regulate the price by 
the amount disposed of. With a view to furnish 
the order with a series of publications adapted to 
its wants, and suited to the improved taste of the 
community, they gave wdrks of this character 
issued by them, the general title of u The Uni- 
versalist Library, ; ' and the Life of Murray 
was the first of the series. 

In this undertaking, they had but little to fear 
from competition; since few, if any, at that time, 
were disposed to hazard the expense of publishing 
Universalist works of this class; and had it been 



6 



PREFACE. 



the desire of any to run risks of the kind, for the 
good of the denomination, there wer? works not a 
few, in the republication of which there was suffi- 
cient scope for a laudable enterprise. Still, if the 
public can derive advantage from a fair and honor- 
able competition, the publishers of this edition will 
not complain, as it has ever been their determina- 
tion to afford it at as low a rate as possible without 
pecuniary loss. 

In the former edition of the Life of Murray, little 
more w r as attempted than to furnish the public with 
the original work, with a few explanatory remarks. 
To this much useful and interesting information 
has been added; and it is thought to contain all 
that is necessary, to secure for it the countenance 
and approbation of the order. In the Appendix, 
something like an epitome of the views of Mr. 
Murray on several points of theology has been at- 
tempted. Many interesting facts and reminiscen- 
ces, have been collected. The account of the 
scene of his first labors in this country, and of the 
tribute of respect which has been recently paid to 
the name and memory of his early friend and pat- 
ron, will be found particularly valuable. An Index 
sufficiently copious for all useful purposes of ref- 
erence has been added to this edition, and much 
pains has been taken to render the work complete 
in all its parts. 

Aug. 23, 1833. The Publisher $. 



CONTENTS- 



CHAPTER n. 

An account of the Author's birth and parentage, with succeeding events 



until the decease of his father -9 

CHAPTER II. 

Record continued until the author's departure from Ireland - 47 
CHAPTER III. 



Arrival in England; and further progress of the inexperienced traveller 

69 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Author becomes a happy husband, a happy father. He embraces 
the ■ truth, as it is in Jesus/ and from this 3 and other combining cau- 
ses, he is involved in great difficulties. Death deprives him of hie 
wedded friend, and his infant son, and he is overtaken by a series of 
calamities - -- -- - - -- 98 

CHAPTER V i 

The bereaved man quitting his native shores, embarks for America, in- 
dulging the fond hope of sequestering himself in the solitude for which 
he sighed. But, contrary to his expectations, a series of circumstan- 
ces unite to produce him a Promulgator of the gospel of God, our 



Saviour ------ 128 

CHAPTER VI. 

Record continued from the September of 1770, to the wintei 
of 1774 * 146 
CHAPTER VII. 



Summary Record of Events from January, 1775, to October, 1809 210 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Record continued from October, 1809, to September, 1815, including 



the closing scene - -- -- - - 246 

CHAPTER IX. 

Conclusion .......... £51 

Appendix ' ------- - 269 

Addenda - -- -- 301 



REV. 



LIFE 

OF 

JOHN MURRAY. 



CHAPTER L 

Containing an Account of the Author's Birth and Parent- 
age, until the Decease of his Father. 

How sweetly roll'd over the morning of life, 
How free from vexation, from sorrow and strife; 
Kind Nature presented rich scenes to my view, 
And every scene she presented was new. 

But soon was the morning of life clouded o'er, 
And its charming serenity lost ; 

Too soon was I forc'd to abandon the shore, 
And on ocean's rude billows be tost. 

Your earnest solicitations, my inestimable, my best 
friend, have, with me, the force of commands, and conse- 
quently I am irresistibly compelled to retrace for your 
gratification, as many of the incidents of early life, as live 
in my memory. Assured of your indulgence, I unhesita- 
tingly commit to your candor, and to your discretion, the 
following sheets, 

I am induced to regret, that my anecdotes of this 
charming season are not more multiplied. Were my 
recollection perfect, my enjoyments would be reiterated, 
but this would not be right, therefore it is not so; every 
season has its enjoyments, and the God of Nature has 
thought proper to keep them distinct, and appropriate. 

I think, if I mistake not,I was ushered into this state of 
being on the 10th day of December, in the year of our 
Lord, 1741, four years before the rebellion, in Scotland, 
of forty-five. I mention this circumstance, as it proved to 
me, in early life, a source of some vexation. The rebel- 



10 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



lion terminated in the destruction of many of \he Scotch 
nobility of my name, and this same rebellion was long the 
subject of political controversy, which generally termina- 
ted in the execration of the Scots, and, on account of my 
name, I was looked upon as a party concerned. 

I drew my first breath in the island of Great Britain, in 
the town of Alton, in Hampshire. This town boasts a 
Church, a Presbyterian and a Quaker meeting-house ; a 
celebrated free school, an extensive and very useful manu- 
facture, and it is environed by a plantation of hops. Alton 
is seated on the River Wey, 18 miles east-north-east of 
South-Hampton, and 48 miles west-south-west of London. 

Being the first born of my parents, it is not wonderful 
that my appearance gave much joy, nor that the little 
complaints, incident to infancy, gave great apprehension. 
It was in consequence of some little indisposition, that 
they solicited and obtained for me private baptism. My 
parents were both sincerely religious, though members of 
different sects. My father was an Episcopalian, my mo- 
ther a Presbyterian, yet Religion never disturbed the har- 
mony of the family. My mother believed, as most good 
women then believed, that husbands ought to have the 
direction, especially in concerns of such vast importance, 
as to involve the future well-being of their children; and 
of course it was, agreed, that I should receive from the 
hands of an Episcopalian minister, the rite of private 
baptism; and as this ordinance, in this private manner, is 
not administered, except the infant is supposed in danger 
of going out of the world in an unregenerate state, before 
it can be brought to the church, I take for granted I was, 
by my apprehensive parents, believed in imminent danger; 
yet, through succeeding years, I seemed almost exempt 
from the casualties of childhood. I am told that my 
parents, and grand-parents, had much joy in me, that I 
never broke their rest nor disturbed their repose not even 
in weaning, that I was a healthy, good-humoured child, 
of a ruddy complexion, and that the equality of my dis- 
position became proverbial. I found the use of my feet 
before I had completed my first year, but the gift of utter 
ance was still postponed. I was hardly two years old, 
when I had a sister born; this sister was presented at the 
baptismal font, and, according to the custom in our 
Church, I was carried to be received, that is, all who are 
privately baptized, must, if they live, be publicly received 
in the congregation. The priest took me in his arms, and 
having prayed according to the form made use of on such 
occasions, I articulated with an audible voice, Amen. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUH&AY. 



11 



The congregation were astonished, and I have frequently 
heard my parents say, this was the first word I ever 
uttered, and that a long time e^psed, before I could dis- 
tinctly articulate any other. Indulged, as I said, by boun- 
teous nature, with much serenity of mind, every one was 
happy with me. I was fond of being abroad, and a ser- 
vant was generally employed to gratify me. During these 
repeated rambles, I experienced some ( hair breadth 
'scapes, 5 which, while they excited the wonder of my 
good parents, they failed not to record. From these 
frequent promenades, I derived that vigorous constitution-, 
or at least its stability, which has prolonged my abode in 
this vale of tears, through many serious disorders, which 
have seemed to promise my emancipation. I do not 
remember the time when I did not behold the works of 
Nature with delight; such as the drapery of the heavens, 
and the flowers of the garden, and of the fields; and I 
perfectly recollect, before I was clothed in masculine 
habiliments, that I was delightedly occupied in opening 
the ground, throwing into some form, and planting in 
regular order, little sprigs broken from the gooseberry, or 
currant bushes. My pleasures of this nature were how- 
ever, soon interrupted by going to school: this was my 
first affliction 5 yet, to imperious necessity, the sweet 
pliability of human nature soon conformed my mind: nay, 
it was more than conformed; I derived even felicity, from 
the approbation of my school dame, from the pictures in 
my books, and especially from the acquaintance I formed 
with my school mates, 

It does not appear to me that I was what the world calls 
naturally vicious. I was neither querulous, nor quarrel- 
some; I cannot trace in my mind a vestige of envy. I re- 
joiced in every advantage possessed by my little comrades, 
and my father was accustomed to exclaim, c Never, I be- 
lieve, was such a boy; he absolutely delights as much in 
the new garments worn by the children of our neighbors, 
as in his own: 5 and indeed, as far as I can recollect during 
this sweet morning of life, my most complete satisfaction 
resulted from the gratification of others. I never enjoyed 
any thing alone; my earliest pleasures were social, and I 
was eager to reciprocate every good office; It is true I 
encountered difficulties, from the various dispositions of 
those with whom I associated, but, in my infant bosom, 
rancor or implacability found no place. Being however 
too fond of play, and ambitious of imitating my seniors^ I 
had little time for reading; yet I learned, and at six years 
old could read a chapter in the Bible, not indeed very 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



correctly, but I rarely paused at a word , however difficult 
still I read on. My father, I remember* used sometimes 
to laugh out — a levity which, by the way, he seldom 
indulged — but he did sometimes laugh out, and say, ' This 
boy sticks at nothing, he has a most astonishing invention; 
how it is he utters such sounds, and passes on with such 
rapidity, I cannot conceive : but my blunders were more 
frequently marked by a staggering box on the ear, which 
necessitated me to stop, when I was obliged to recom- 
mence, and go over the whole again* This conduct 
originated, even at this early age, more fear than affection 
for my father. I was studious to avoid his presence, and 
I richly enjoyed his absence. To my brothers and sisters, 
who were multiplied with uncommon rapidity, I was 
warmly attached, and as our mother contributed all in her 
power to our gratification, our pleasures were not surpas- 
sed by those of any little group, which came under our 
observation. 

My parents were the religious children of religious pa- 
rents, and grand parents 3 they were the more religious on 
that account; and, as the descendants of ancient noble 
families value themselves on their pedigree, stimulating 
their children from considerations of ancestry to act up to 
the illustrious examples which they exhibit and emblazon, 
uniformly insisting that they shall avoid mixing with the 
plebian race; so, as soon as I appeared to pay attention 
to interesting tales, I was made acquainted with the char- 
acter of my grand parents. 

My paternal grandfather,however^ possessed only neg- 
ative religion; that is, his affection for my grandmother 
obliged him to conform to her, in every thing; and he es- 
teemed himself happy, in being blest with a wife, who, 
from principle and inclination, was both able and willing 
to take upon herself the care and culture of her children. 
How long this grandfather lived, I am unable to say, but 
my grandmother was,with respect to her religious attach- 
ments, more fortunate in a second marriage. She was 
united to a Mr. Beattie^ a man of considerable note, in 
every point of view. It was by this gentleman's name, 
I became acquainted with my grandmother; I remember, 
when very young, to have seen his picture, which gave 
me a very high idea of his person^ It was his son, who 
was governor of the fortress, in the harbor of Cork. My 
grandmother soon lost this second husband, and never 
married again* She was, in the morning and meridian 
of her life, a celebrated beauty : the remains of a fine face 
were visible when I knew her: I never beheld a more 



lilFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



18 



beautiful old lady. Traces of affluence were conspicuous 
in her dwelling, her furniture, and apparel; she was an 
immediate descendant of an ancient and honorable family 
in France; her father's name was Barroux, one of the 
noblesse, and a dweller in the town of Paimboeuf, on the 
river Loire, between the city of Nantes, and the mouth 
of said river. Mr. Barroux having buried his lady, who 
left him two daughters, thought proper, as was then the 
custom of people of distinction, to educate his eldest 
daughter in England; this step banished her from her na- 
tive country, and from her father: she never saw either 
more. Attaching herself to a family of Episcopalians, 
she became a zealous Protestant, which, together with her 
selecting a husband of the same persuasion, confirmed her 
an exile forever. The irritated feelings of her father ad- 
mitted no appeal: his affections were totally alienated : he 
was a high spirited, obstinate man, and he swore in his 
wrath, he would wed the first woman he met, provided he 
could obtain her consent, and she were not absolutely dis- 
gusting. The first who presented happened to be his 
chambermaid; he made known to her his vow, was ac- 
cepted with gratitude and they were speedily married 
Not many years after this event, the old gentleman died, 
leaving no issue by his second marriage, and, as he left 
no will, his daughter, who continued under the paternal 
roof, entered into possession of the whole estate; she, 
however, survived her father only three weeks, when my 
grandmother became the only legal heir to the property, 
both of her father, and her sister. 

A large share of the personal estate was conveyed to 
England, by two priests; and the real estate was tendered 
to my grandmother, on condition that she would read her 
recantation, renounce the damnable doctrines of the 
Church of England, and receive the Host, as the real 
presence. My grandmother, and my father, after a 
conference, which continued but a few moments, cheer- 
fully concurred in a relinquishment of the estate, and 
united in declaring, that, on terms so calculated to pros- 
trate their integrity, they would not accept the whole 
kingdom of France. The clergyman returned to the 
Gallic shore, and the person left in the house, for the 
purpose of taking charge of the estate, until the heirs at 
law should recover their senses, continued in the quiet 
possession of an inheritance, worth five hundred pounds 
sterling per annum. When the estate was thus, upon 
religious principles, surrendered, I was about five years 
of age; but having frequently heard my father circum- 



14 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



stantially relate the transaction, as I advanced in life, my 
bosom often acknowledged a latent wish, that he had ac- 
cepted an inheritance to which his natural claim was in- 
dubitable, upon the terms offered by the ecclesiastics, 
which were, that my grandmother, and my father, should 
in so many words, qualify themselves for the possession 
of their right, w 7 hile, in their hearts, they continued to 
judge for themselves. But from a conduct so question- 
able, the guileless heart of my upright parent spontane- 
ously revolted; and, for myself, while revolving years 
gave me to exult in his decision, the detection of so rep- 
rehensible a principle, in my own bosom, and at so early 
a period, originated much contrition. Yet, notwithstand- 
ing the very considerable sacrifice made by my father, his 
uniform efforts commanded all the necessaries, and many 
of the elegancies of life. His children multiplied; four 
sons and five daughters augmented his felicities; he re- 
ceived from nature a strong mind, his parents bestowed 
upon him a good education, and he was universally 
respected and beloved. 

The parents of my mother were well known to me; her 
father's name was James Rolt, his ancestors were all 
English; he w r as in early life a bon-vivant, and even when 
he became the head of a family, his reprehensible pursuits 
were nothing diminished; the silent suffering of his wed- 
ded companion were strongly expressed in her w^an coun- 
tenance, and broken health. The circumstances of his 
conversion from dissipation to a life of severe piety were 
rather remarkable, and were considered in his day as 
miraculous. 

Of the piety of my paternal grandfather, or my maternal 
grandmother, I have little to say. I have never heard that 
they allowed themselves in any improper indulgencies, 
and as they were the admirers of their devout companions, 
it is a fair conclusion, that they were at least negatively 
pious, and that if they did not lead, they cheerfully fol- 
lowed, in cultivating a pious disposition in the minds of 
their children; and, by consequence, Religion became 
the legitimate inheritance of my immediate parents. 
The conversion of my paternal grandmother, from the 
tenets in which she was educated, increased her zeal, 
while the inheritance, sacrificed from conscientious prin- 
ciples, gave her to consider herself more especially heir 
of an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth 
not away; and conscious that she had fully concurred with 
my father, in depriving their children of a temporal trea- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



15 



s-ure, they were sedulously, anxious to inculcate a per- 
suasion of the necessity of securing another. 

It is wonderful, that while it was the great business, 
both of my father and mother, to render their children 
feelingly solicitious to secure an interest in the Redeemer, 
that they might be thus entitled to a blessed and happy 
futurity, they were both of them very rigid Calvinists. 

The doctrines, taught by that gloomy Reformer, they 
undeviatingly taught to their family : and hence my soul 
frequently experienced the extreme of agony. Naturally 
vivacious, to implant religion among my juvenile pleasures 
required the most vigorous and uniform effort. Religion 
was not a native of the soil, it was an exotic, which when 
planted, could only be kept alive by the most persevering 
attention. Hence Religion became a subject of terror. I 
was not ten years old when I began to suffer; the discov- 
ery of my sufferings gave my fond father much pleasure ; 
he cherished hope of me when he found me suffering from 
my fears, and much indeed was I tortured by the severe 
unbending discipline of my father, and the terrifying ap- 
prehensions of what I had to expect from the God who 
created me. The second son of my parents was naturally 
of a pensive, gloomy disposition. He was more piously 
disposed, and less fond of amusement than myself, and 
hearing much of Cain as the eldest son of Adam, of Esau 
as the eldest son of Isaac, and of Abel and Jacob as the 
younger sons, my soul was frequently filled with terror, 
verily believing my brother was the elected, and myself 
the rejected of God. This appalling consideration, even 
at this early period, frequently devoted my days and nights 
to tears and lamentation. But stability dwelt not with 
me, and the pleasing expectations of my father were often 
blasted; my attachment to my playmates, and their child- 
ish gambols revived, and when engaged in appropriate 
amusements, I often forgot the immediate terror of the 
rod, and of future misery; both of which, as often as I 
reflected, I painfully believed I should endure. My father 
took every method to confine me within his walls : it was 
with difficulty he prevailed upon himself to permit my 
attendance at school, yet this was necessary, and to school 
I must go; while that rigid and extreme vigilance, which 
was ever upon the alert, produced effects diametrically 
opposite to the end proposed, My appetite for pleasure 
increased, and I occasionally prefer ed the truant frolic, 
to the stated seasons of study, yea, though I was certain 
severe castigation would be the consequence. Pious sup- 
plications were the accompaniments of the chastisements 



16 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



which were inflicted, so that I often passed from the ter- 
ror of the rod, to the terrifying apprehensions of future 
and never-ending misery. Upon these terrific occasions, 
the most solemn resolutions were formed, and my vows 
were marked by floods of tears. I would no more offend 
either my father, or his God; I dared not to say my God, 
for I had heard my father declare, that for any individual, 
not the elect of God, or to say of God, or to God, c Our 
Father, 5 was nothing better than blasphemy: when 
most devout, I was prevented from deriving consolation 
from my pious breathings, by a persuasion that I was a 
reprobate, predestined to eternal perdition. In fact, I 
believed that I had nothing to hope, but every thing to 
fear, both from my Creator, and my father; and these 
soul-appalling considerations, by enforcing a conclusion, 
that I was but making provision for alternate torture, 
threw a cloud over every innocent enjoyment. 

About the time that I attained my eleventh year, my 
father removed to Ireland, and though I dreaded going 
with him any w T here, I was the only individual of the 
family whom he compelled to accompany him. Yet I 
was captivated by the charms of novelty. London filled 
me with amazement, and my fond, my apprehensive father, 
was in continual dread of losi™<r me; while the severity 
he practised to detain me him, by invigorating my 
desires to escape from his presence, increased the evil. 

We quited London in the middle of April, and reaching 
Bristol, tarried but a little while in that city. At Pill, five 
miles from Bristol, between my father and myself, a final 
separation was on the point of taking place. In the Bris- 
tol river the tide is extremely rapid; I stepped into a boat 
on the slip, and letting it loose, the force of the current 
almost instantly carried it off into the channel, and had it 
been ebb instead of flood tide, I must inevitably have gone 
out to sea, and most probably should never have been 
heard of more : but the flood tide carried me with great 
rapidity up the river, and the only fear I experienced was 
" from the effects of my father's indignation. The poor 
gentleman, with a number of compassionate individuals, 
were engaged, until almost twelve o'clock, in searching 
the town, and the harbor, and had returned home relin- 
quishing every hope of my restoration. In the midst of 
the stream I found a large flat-bottomed boat at anchor, 
to which, making fast the boat I was in, I consequently 
proceeded no farther. At midnight, I heard voices on 
the side of the river, when, earnestly imploring their aid, 
and offering a liberal reward, they came in their boat, 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



17 



and, conveying me on shore, conducted me to my lodg- 
ings; but no language can describe my dismay, as I drew 
near my father, who was immediately preparing to ad- 
minister the deserved chastisement, when the benevolent 
hostess interposed, and in pity-moving accents exclaimed : 
* Oh, for God's sake let the poor Blood alone; I warrant 
he has suffered enough already. 3 My father was softened, 
perhaps he was not displeased to find a pretence for mild- 
ness: he gave me no correction for this offence; he even 
treated me with unusual kindness. We were detained 
in Pill three weeks, wishing for a favorable wind, three 
weeks more at Minehead, and three weeks at Milford Ha- 
ven. Thus we were nine weeks in performing a passage, 
which is commonly made in forty-eight hours, and instead 
of my father's reaching Cork before the residue of his 
family, they were there almost at the moment of our ar- 
rival. In Cork we were at home. There dwelt the re- 
spected mother of my father, and in easy circumstances; 
many changes, however, had taken place in her family., 
although the remains of affluence were still visible. My 
father fixed his residence in the vicinity of this city, and 
a most pleasing residence it proved. 

) About this time the Methodists made their appearance, 
and my father was among the first who espoused their 
cause. His zeal for vital religion could hardly be sur- 
passed; and it appeared to him that this innate, and holy 
operation, rejected by every other sect, had found refuge 
in the bosoms of these exemplary people. But, though 
my father espoused the cause, he did not immediately be- 
come a Methodist: the Methodists were not Calvinists. 
Yet, if possible, he doubled his diligence; he kept his 
family more strict than ever; he was distinguished by the 
name of saint, and became the only person in his vicinity, 
whom the Methodists acknowledged as truly pious. With 
the religion of the Methodists I was greatly enamored; 
they preached often, and in the streets; they had private 
societies of young people, and sweet singing, and a vast 
deal of it, and an amazing variety of tunes, — and all this 
was beyond expression charming. At this period the 
health of my father began to decline. Physicians con- 
curred in opinion, that his complaints indicated a pulmo- 
nary affection. Again his efforts were renewed and in- 
vigorated, and, poor gentleman, his labors were abun- 
dantly multiplied. The ardent desire of his soul was to 
render every individual of his family actively religious, 
and religious in his own way; but as his children neces- 
sarily mingled more or less with the children in the neigh- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



borhood, they caught words and habits which he disliked, 
and application was made to the rod, as a sovereign 
panacea. 

In the course of my twelfth year, my father was over- 
taken by a very heavy calamity; his house, his houses^ 
and indeed almost every thing he possessed, were laid in 
ashes. He had only a moment to snatch to his bosom a 
sleeping infant from its cradle, when a part of the house 
fell in; an instant longer and they would both have been 
wrapped in the surrounding flames; and a deep sense of 
this preserving mercy accompanied him to his grave. 
Thus every event of his life seemed to combine to render 
his devotions more and more fervent. It was happy for 
us that my respectable grandmother still lived, whose ex- 
tricating hand was an ever ready resource. 

It was my father's constant practice, so long as his 
health would permit, to quit his bed, winter as well as 
summer, at four o'clock in the morning; a large portion 
of this time, thus redeemed from sleep, was devoted to 
private prayers and meditations. At six o'clock the fami- 
ly were summoned, and I, as the eldest son, was ordered 
into my closet, for the purpose of private devotion. My 
father, however, did not go with me, and I did not always 
pray; I was not always in a praying frame; but the de- 
ceit, which I was thus reduced to the necessity of prac- 
tising, was an additional torture to my laboring mind. 
After the family were collected, it was my part to read a 
chapter in the bible ; then followed a long and fervent prayer 
by my father; breakfast succeeded, when the children 
being sent to school, the business of the day commenced. 
In the course of the day, my father, as I believe, never 
omitted his private devotions, and, in the evening, the 
whole family were again collected, the children examin- 
ed, our faults recorded, and I, as an example to the rest, 
especially chastised. My father rarely passed by an of- 
fence, without marking it by such punishment as his 
sense of duty awarded; and when my tearful mother in- 
terceded for me, he would respond to her entreaties in 
the language of Solomon, c if thou beat Mm with a rod, 
he shall not die;' the bible was again introduced, and 
the day was closed by prayer. Sunday was a day much 
to be dreaded in our family; we were all awakened at 
early dawn, private devotions attended, breakfast hastily 
dismissed, shutters closed, no light but from the back part 
of the house, no noise could bring any part of the family 
to the window, not a syllable was uttered upon secular 
affairs; every one who could read, children and domes- 



2L.IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



19 



ties, had their allotted chapters. Family prayer succeed- 
ed: after which, Baxter's Saint's Everlasting Rest was 
assigned to me; my mother all the time in terror lest the 
children should be an interruption. At last the bell sum- 
moned us to church, whither in solemn order we proceed- 
ed: I close to my father, who admonished me to look 
straight forward, and not let my eyes wander after vani- 
ty. At church, I was fixed at his elbow, compelled to 
kneel when he kneeled, to stand when he stood, to find 
the Psalm, Epistle, Gospel, and collects for the day; and 
any instance of inattention was vigilently marked, and 
unrelentingly punished. When I returned from church, 
I was ordered to my closet; and when I came forth, the 
chapter from which the preacher had taken his text, was 
read, and 1 was then questioned respecting the sermon, a 
part of which I could generally repeat. Dinner, as 
breakfast, was taken in silent haste, after which we were 
not suffered to walk, even in the garden, but every one 
must either read, or hear reading, until the bell gave the 
signal for afternoon service, from which we returned to 
private devotion, to reading, to catechising, to examina- 
tion, and long family prayer, which closed the most labo- 
rious day of the week. It was the custom for many of 
our visiting friends to unite with us in these evening ex- 
ercises, to the no small gratification of my father; it is 
true, especially after he became an invalid, he was often 
extremely fatigued, but, upon these occasions, the more 
he suffered, the more he rejoiced, since his reward would 
be the greater, and indeed his sufferings, of every descrip- 
tion, were to him a never-failing source of consolation. 
In fact, this devotional life became to him second nature, 
but it was not so to his family. For myself, I was alter- 
nately serious, and wild, but never very moderate in any 
thing. My father rejoiced in my devotional frames, and 
was encouraged to proceed, as occasion was given, in the 
good work of whipping, admonishing, and praying. I 
continued to repeat my pious resolutions, and, still more 
to bind my soul, I once vowed a vow unto the Lord, — 
kissing the book for the purpose of adding to its solemni- 
ty, — that I would no more visit the pleasure grounds, nor 
again associate with those boys, who had been my com- 
panions. Almost immediately after this transaction I at- 
tended a thundering preacher, who, taking for his text 
that command of our Saviour, which directs his disciples 
to c swear not at all,' gave me to believe I had committed 
a most heinous transgression, in the oath that I had taken; 
nay, he went so far as to assure his hearers, that to say, 



20 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

'upon my word,' was an oath, a very horrid oath, since it 
was tantamount to swearing by Jesus Christ, inasmuch 
as he was the word, who was made flesh for us and dwelt 
among us. This sermon rendered me for a long season 
truly wretched, while I had no individual to whom I 
could confide my distresses. To my father I dared not 
even name my secret afflictions, and my mother, as far 
as the tenderness of her nature would permit, was in 
strict unison with her venerated husband. The depres- 
sion of my spirits upon this occasion was great, and en- 
during; but for revolving months I continued what they 
called a good boy, I was attentive to my book, carefully 
following the directions that were given me, and on my 
return from school, instead of squandering the hours of 
intermission with idle associates, I immediately retired 
to the garden, which constituted one of the first pleasures 
of my life; in fact, the cultivation of fruits, and flowers, 
has, in every period of my existence, continued to me a 
prime source of enjoyment. My paternal grandmother 
was the Lady Bountiful of the parish; having made it her 
study, she became an adept in the distillation of simples; 
she had a large garden adjoining to my father's and she 
cultivated an amazing variety of plants. As I was her 
favorite assistant, she gradually obtained my father's per- 
mission, that I should appropriate to her a large part of 
my time, and the hours which I consequently devoted to 
this venerable lady, in her garden, and in her habitation, 
were to me halcyon hours. It was my study to enrich 
her grounds with every choice herb, or flower, which 
met my gaze, and I was ever on the alert to collect plants 
of the most rare description. This was confessedly an 
innocent amusement; it would bear reflection, and was 
therefore delightful. Alas ! alas ! it was too replete with 
felicity to be continued. I was soon compelled to relinquish 
my pleasant occupation. My father found it necessary 
to remove from the neighborhood of his mother, and her 
garden no more bloomed for me. 

We were speedily established in the vicinity of a noble- 
man's seat, in which was instituted an academy of high 
reputation. It was under the direction of an Episcopalian 
clergyman, who, being well acquainted with, and much 
attached to my father, had frequent opportunities of hear- 
ing me recite many chapters from the bible, which I had 
committed to memory, and becoming fond of me, 'he 
earnestly importuned my father to surrender me up to 
his care. ' He shall live in my family,' said he; c he shall 
be unto me as a son, I will instruct him, and when op- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



21 



portunity offers, he shall become a member of the Uni- 
versity : he has a prodigious memory, his understanding 
needs only to be opened, when he will make the most 
rapid progress. 5 But my father, trembling for my spirit- 
ual interest, if removed from his guardian care, returned 
to this liberal proposal the most unqualified negative, and 
my writing-master immediately sought, and obtained the 
situation for his son, who was about my age. In this 
academy many nobleman's sons were qualified for Trinity 
College, Dublin, and in a few years one of those ennobled 
students, selected my fortunate schoolmate as a compan- 
ion; he passed through Trinity College, and received its 
honors, from which period I never again beheld him, un- 
til I saw him in a pulpit in the city of London. 

Though my social propensities, at every period of my 
life greatly predominated, yet the close attention paid me 
by my father, greatly abridged every enjoyment of this 
description. Yet I did form one dear connection, with 
whom I held sweet converse. But of the society of this 
dear youth I was soon deprived. Recalled by his family, 
he was to leave town upon a Sunday morning, and in- 
stead of going to church, I took my way to his lodgings, 
for the purpose of bidding him a last farewell. The ill 
health of my father prevented him from attending church 
on that day, but tidings of my delinquency were conveyed 
to him by a gentleman of his acquaintance, and my pun- 
ishment, as I then believed, was more than proportioned 
to my fault. Still, however, I had sufficient hardihood 
to run great hazards. A review of several regiments of 
soldiers was announced; I could not obtain leave to be 
present, yet, for the purpose of witnessing a sight so 
novel, I was determined to take the day to myself; I 
suffered much through the day from hunger, and I antici- 
pated my reception at home. In the evening, I stopped 
at a little kut, where the homely supper smoked up- 
on the frugal board; the cottagers had the goodness 
to press me to partake with them; my heart blessed 
them; I should, like Esau, have given my birthright 
had it been mine to bestow, for this entertainment; 
but, blessings on the hospitable inhabitants of this island, 
they make no demands either upon friend, or stranger; 
every individual is welcome to whatever sustenance either 
their houses or their huts afford. I sat down, and I ate 
the sweetest meal I ever ate in my life, the pleasure of 
which 1 have never yet forgotten, although the paternal 
chastisement, which followed, was uncommonly severe. 

The time now approached when it was judged neces- 



2% LIFE Or REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

sary I should engage in some business, by which I 
might secure the neccessaries of life. The conscience 
of my father had deprived me of an estate, and of a col- 
legiate education, and it was incumbent upon him to 
make some provision for me. But what was to be done r 
If he sent me abroad, I should most unquestionably con- 
tract bad habits. Well then, he would bring me up him- 
self; but this was very difficult. He had for some time 
thrown up business, and new expenses must be incur- 
red. Finally, however, I commenced my new career, 
and under the eye of my pains-taking father. I did not 
however like it; yet I went on well, and, dividing my 
attention between my occupation and my garden, I had 
little leisure. It was at this period I began once more to 
experience the powerful operation of religion, and secret 
devotion became my choice. Perhaps no one of my age 
ever more potently felt the joys and sorrows of Religion. 
The Methodists had followed us to our new situation, 
and they made much noise; they courted, and obtained 
the attention of my father, and he now joined their society. 
They urged him to become a preacher, but his great hu- 
mility, and his disbelief of Arminianism were insupera- 
ble bars. He was nevertheless a powerful assistant to 
the Methodists. Mr. John Wesley was a great admirer 
of my fathur, and he distinguished him beyond any indi- 
vidual in the society; perseveringly urging him to be- 
come the leader of a class, and to meet the society in the 
absence of their preachers : to all which my father con- 
sented. I think I have befbre observed, that I was de- 
voted to the Methodists, and for the very reason that render- 
ed my father apprehensive of them, — they were very so- 
cial. The Methodists in this, as in every other place, 
where they sojourned, by degrees established a perma- 
nent residence. They first preached in the streets, 
practised much self-denial, and mortification, inveighed 
against the standing religion of the country, as impious 
and hypocritical, declaring the new birth only to be 
found among them. To this general rule, they, how- 
ever, allowed my father to be an exception; and his open 
espousal of their cause contributed greatly to building 
them up. They gained many proselytes : it became the 
fashion for multitudes to become religious; and it is in 
religion as in every thing else, where once it is followed 
by a multitude, multitudes will follow. The very child- 
ren became religious. A meeting-house was speedily ob- 
tained, a society was formed, and classes of every de- 
scription regularly arranged. There was one class of 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. <28 

boys; it consisted of forty, and Mr. John Wesley appoint- 
ed me their leader. Twice in the course of every week 
this class met in a private apartment. The business of 
the leader was to see that the members were all present; 
for this purpose he was furnished with a list of their 
names, and when they were all assembled, the leader be- 
gan by singing a hymn. I was once pronounced a good 
singer, and although I never had patience to learn mu- 
sic by note, I readily caught every tune I heard, and my 
notes were seldom false. I repeat, that I was delighted 
with the music introduced by the Methodists. I collect- 
ed their most enchanting tunes, and singing them fre- 
quently in my class, I obtained much applause. Prayer 
succeeded the hymn; I was accustomed to extemporary 
prayer; I had usually prayed in sincerity, and my devo- 
tion upon these occasions was glowing and unfeigned. 
Examination followed the prayer; I examined every indi- 
vidual separately, respecting the work of God upon his 
heart, and both the questions, and responses, evinced 
great simplicity, and pious sincerity. A word of gene- 
ral advice next ensued, a second hymn was sung, and the 
whole concluded with prayer. This was a most delight 
ful season, both for my parents, and myself. I became 
the object of general attention: my society was sought 
by the grey-headed man, and the child. My experience 
was various, and great; in fact, I had experienced more 
of what is denominated the work of God upon the heart, 
than many, I had almost said than any, of my seniors, 
my parents excepted. Devout persons pronounced that 
I was, by divine favor, destined to become a burning 
and a shining light; and from these nattering appear- 
ances my father drew much consolation. I was frequent- 
ly addressed, in his presence as the child of much 
watching, and earnest prayer; this, to my proudly-pious 
parent was not a little flattering; it was then that I de- 
rived incalculable satisfaction, from these very legible 
marks of election : And though the Methodists insisted, 
that the doctrine of election, before repentance and faith, 
was a damnable doctrine; yet they admitted, that, after 
the manifestation of extraordinary evidences, the indi- 
vidual, so favored, was unquestionably elected. Thus, 
by the concurrer' testimonies of Calvinists and Armin- 
ians, I was taught to consider myself as distinguished, 
and chosen of God; as certainly born again. Yet, as it 
was next to impossible to ascertain the moment of my 
new birth, I became seriously unhappy, but from this un- 
happiness I was rescued, by reading accounts of holy 



IilFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



and good men in similar circumstances; I now therefore 
lived a heaven upon earth, beloved, caressed, and ad- 
mired. No longer shut up under my father's watchful 
care, I was allowed to go out every morning at five 
o'clock to the house of public worship; there I hymned 
the praises of God, and united in fervent prayer with the 
children of the faithful: meeting several of my young 
admiring friends, we exchanged experiences, we mingled 
our joys and our sorrows, and by this friendly intercourse 
the first was increased, and the second diminished. In 
all our little meetings we were continually complaining 
to, and soothing each other, and these employments were 
truly delightful. The mind cannot be intently occupied 
on contrary matters at the same time, and my mind being 
filled with devotion, my waking and my sleeping mo- 
ments were invariably engaged in religious pursuits; it 
was in truth my meat, and my drink, to do what I be- 
lieved the will of my heavenly Father. At this period, 
I should have been wrecked upon the sand-built founda- 
tion of self -righteousness, as many of my young friends 
were, had it not been for the unbroken vigilance of an ex- 
perienced and tender father. He saw the danger of too 
great elation, and he labored to keep me humble in my 
own estimation. c You now, my dear,' said he, c think 
you know every thing; but when you really attain supe- 
rior information, you will be convinced you know noth- 
ing. 3 This assertion appeared to me extremely paradoxi- 
cal; but I have since learned to appreciate its rationality 
and its truth. I know not how long I proceeded in this 
delightful path; nothing from within or without, inter- 
rupted my course, and I well remember, that I fancied 
myself on the verge of perfection. I saw, or imagined I 
saw, undeviating rectitude within my grasp. I was con- 
scious of no wishes, but those which I considered the le- 
gitimate offspring of the religion I professed. I wonder- 
ed what had become of my evil propensities; they were 
however gone, and I believed, they would no more re- 
turn : my days, my weeks rolled on, uniformly devoted to 
pursuits, which created for me unutterable self-compla- 
cency. On Sunday morning I arose with the sun, and 
like our first parent in a state of innocence, 

Straight towards heaven my wondering eyes I turned, 
" And gazed awhile the ample sky." 

Th s after a night of charmingly refreshing, and undis- 
turbed repose, with spirits innocently gay, I arose, wash- 
ed my face and hands, repeating a short supplication, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



25 



which my father never, on those occasions, omitted: 
^O, Almighty God, who hath ordained this watery ele- 
ment for the use, and support of nature, by which I am 
at this time refreshed, and cleansed, O ! purify my soul, 
by the operation of thy blessed spirit, as a well of water 
springing up into everlasting life.' I then retired to my 
closet, offering the orisons of my gladened heart, and 
habited for church. I sat down to my book, until my 
father made his appearance, when the family being sum- 
moned, and the morning prayer ended, we breakfasted; 
but it was a light repast; and soon despatched. At eight 
o'clock, I attended the Methodist meeting: at half 
past nine, I returned home, and devoted the time to read- 
ing, until after ten, when the bell summoned me to church, 
where the Methodists at that time attended; at church I 
was remarked for my devotion. From the church I re- 
turned to my closet, after which I read the Bible, respond- 
ing to the interrogations of my father, relative to the 
sermon, by repeating it nearly verbatim. Dinner over I 
again retired to my closet; from which, by my father's 
desire, I made my appearance, to read for him some de- 
votional book, until the bell again commanded my attend- 
ance upon public worship; but, to my great consolation, 
I had not, when I returned home, as on Sunday sketched in 
a former page, to spend the residue of the day in sadden- 
ing glooms : at five o'clock, the Methodist meeting again 
opened, to which the multitude flocked; there I saw, and 
there, with affectionate admiration, I was seen; there> 
when the terrors of law were exhibited, I was delighted 
by the assurance of eternal security therefrom; and there, 
when the children of the Redeemer were addressed in 
the soothing and plausive strains of consolation, my heart 
throbbed with pleasure, and tears of transport copiously 
evinced the rapture of my soul. Society meeting suc- 
ceeded the close of public service; three classes of the 
people were denominated Methodists : The congregation, 
who, as outer-court worshippers, were only hearers, and 
seekers; members of the society, who were classed; and 
members of the band society, who were genuine believers. 
The two latter met every Sunday evening after meeting., 
and no individual, who was not furnished with a ticket, 
could gain admittance. This ticket was a badge of dis- 
tinction; it gave the possessor entrance, all others were 
shut out, and the door was locked. No words can de- 
scribe my sensations, when I obtained a seat inside the 
closed door; when I listened, while the preacher in a 
low voice addressed the children of God The house 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



was not unfrequently filled with the dissonant sounds of 
terror, and joy issued from the discordant voices of those, 
who were in the valley, or on the mount. From this so- 
ciety, I returned home, to unite in family devotion, re- 
peat the fundamental points of my religion, retire to my 
private devotions, and then to bed. Monday morning, 
I arose at five o'clock, and after the same preparation as 
on Sunday, attended meeting, returned to breakfast, oc- 
cupied myself with the business of the day, until dinner; 
and after dinner, an interval passed in private devotion, 
to secular affairs again, until evening; then once more to 
the Methodist meeting, returned, attended family and 
private devotions, and to my chamber : often not to rest, 
but to my book, till midnight. Thus was my time spent, 
two evenings in the week excepted, which were devoted 
to my class, and one night in the week, when the society 
assembled, as on Sunday evening; but, alas! the fervor 
of spirit, excited on those occasions, cannot, in the nature 
of things be very durable. There were individuals in 
my class who proved untoward, they began to be weary 
in well doing; this was a source of sorrow, the first I had 
experienced for a long time; added to this, repeated com- 
plaints reached my ear, and not unfrequently slanderous 
reports — reports one against another! This tortured 
me; I consulted the preachers, disputes ran high, the in- 
terposition of parents became indispensable, and the 
class was broken!! This was a severe trial; I had de- 
rived high satisfaction from the connexion, and from the 
fame which it had bestowed upon me; I however lost no 
reputation; it was generally believed I had performed 
my duty, and that no boy, beside myself, would have 
kept such a set of beings together, and in such order so 
long. 

This was a season replete with events, which possessed 
for me no common interest. Constantly in society, I for- 
med many attachments, and I began to fear that the love 
of social enjoyments would, like Aaron's rod, swallow up 
my best affections. From conviction of error, I sought 
retirement : I loved reading more than any thing else, but 
I sighed for variety, and as the full soul loatheth the honey 
comb, I began to sicken at the constant repetition of devo- 
tional books. My father read history, and some few 
novels, but he took special care to secure those books from 
his children. We were allowed to read no books but the 
bible, and volumes based upon this precious depository of 
whatsoever things are good and excellent. I sometimes, 
however glanced my eyf» o^er my father's shoulder and 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



27 



finding Tom Jones, or the history of a Foundling, in his 
hand, the efforts at concealment, which he evidently made, 
augmented my anxiety to read. I remember once to have 
found Clarissa Harlowe upon his table. Hervy's Medita- 
tions, and Young's Night Thoughts, were not interdicted 
books and their plaintive sadness obtained an easy admis- 
sion into the inmost recesses of my soul. To Milton too 
I gave some hours, but I could not read blank verse, nor 
did my father wish to encourage my attempts in this way. 
He saw I had too strong passion for novelty, and he 
deemed it prudent to check me in the commencement of 
my career. 

Although my devotional ecstacies were diminished, yet 
I was steadily attentive to my religious exercises, and I 
believed myself daily increasing in goods. It is true my 
life was as variable as the weather; sometimes on the 
mount, and sometimes in the valley, sometimes alive 
to all the fervor of devotion, and sometimes, alas ! very 
lifeless: Now rejoicing in hope, and anon depressed by 
fear. 

The preachers, visiting the adjacent villages, often re- 
quested my father to permit my attendance ; his consent 
delighted me; I reaped, from those little excursions, 
abundant satisfaction, and the preachers being my elders, 
and much acquainted with the world, I collected from 
their conversation much to instruct and amuse. They 
were, however, young men, they collected young com- 
pany, and they were excellent singers; this was a most 
pleasing circumstance. My affections naturally glowing, 
I soon formed strong attachments and, the craft of Mr. 
Wesley changing his candidates with every new quarter, 
the farewell sermons generally dissolved the whole con- 
gregation in tears, and my bosom was often lacerated 
with many and deep wounds. 

An order from the Bishop now arrived, calling upon 
the people to prepare for confirmation, and young persons 
were directed to wait upon their parish minister for the 
requisite instruction. Although the Methodists consider- 
ed themselves Episcopalians, yet they were detested by 
the clergy of that church; their zeal seemed a standing 
satire upon them; and their indignation was proportioned 
to the progress made by the new sect. We, however, 
presented ourselves as candidates for confirmation : though 
young, I was pretty generally known, and it soon became 
evident, that I had incurred the displeasure of my minis- 
ter. No question was proposed to me, but his oblique 
reflections were abundant: I determined, however, to 



38 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



address him; and one day when he was cautioning those* 
who were honored by his attention, against those expecta- 
tions about which the wild enthusiasts of the day were 
fanatically raving, such as the extraordinary operations of 
the spirits, &c. &c, exhorting them to consider them- 
selves in their baptism made members of Christ, and 
inheritors of the kingdom of heaven, I ventured to ask: 
Did I, sir, in my baptism, receive all the advantages ? In 
a most ungracious manner, he replied: c Undoubtedly. 7 
Then, sir, allow me to ask, What can I want more? Of 
what use is confirmation ? ' What do you mean by asking 
these impertinent questions? 5 I ask for information: I 
came hither to be instructed. c No, you came here to 
instruct me; you want to see your patron, John Wesley, 
in the pulpit. You have no business here. 5 I conceive, 
sir, I have business here; I am one of your parish. I 
was warned to attend, for the purpose of receiving 
instruction; and to whom should I apply but to my minis- 
ter? He deigned not to answer me, but when we again 
assembled, I observed: I remember, sir, when we were 
last here, you told us, there was no such thing as a feeling 
operation of the spirit of God; I request therefore to 
know, how we are to understand that article of our 
church, which pronounces the doctrine of election full of 
especial comfort to all godly persons, and such as feel in 
themselves the workings of the spirit of the Lord? c You 
have nothing to do with the articles; you do not under- 
stand them. 5 I should suppose, sir, that every member of 
a church had something to do with the articles of his 
church; and if I do not understand them, suffer me to 
come to you for information. c You are an impertinent 
fellow, and if you thus proceed, I shall order the clerk to 
put you out of the church. 5 You may order me out your- 
self, sir; only tell me to go, and I will instantly depart. 
Not another syllable was uttered to me, upon this occa- 
sion. But upon the following Sunday, when the young 
people of the congregation were again to be catechised, 
I appeared with the rest, and our teacher uttered a severe 
and pointed sarcasm. I was sufficiently abashed to cover 
my face with my hat — when, in a very angry tone he 
commanded me to depart from the church, he would suffer 
no laughter there. I assured this christian preacher, that 
I did not laugh, that I felt no disposition to laugh; he in- 
sisted, that I did, and with great confusion I withdrew 
from the altar; but waiting for him in the porch of the 
church, I humbly implored his pardon, while I informed 
him, that he had done me much, wrong; that I had too 



LIFE OF RET. JOHN MURRAY. $9 

«acred a veneration for the place I was in, to deport my- 
self unbecomingly while under its roof; that I had not 
the smallest inclination to mirth; that the consideration 
of his denying the operation of the spirit upon the heart 
had too much disturbed and grieved me, c Well, I do 
still say, there is no especial operation of the spirit : I 
have never experienced any thing of this description, 5 
How then, suffer me to ask, could you say, when you 
were ordained, that you felt yourself moved by the Holy 
Ghost to take upon you the office of a teacher ? c You 
know nothing of the matter, you are very impertinent. 
Many were standing by, who seemed pleased with the 
advantage I had so apparently gained, and, while thus 
remunerated for the insult I had received, I returned 
Jiome in triumph. 

Some time after, as I was passing the street, one of my 
acquaintance asked me, if I knew the bishop was at that 
moment engaged in confirming the young people of our 
parish? I instantly repaired to the church, and to my 
.great surprise, found the information correct; my good 
priest had not intended I should be apprized of the busi- 
ness. I advanced however^to the altar, and presented 
myself to the bishop. My priest appeared exceedingly ir- 
ritated, and made a communication to the bishop, in a 
tone too low to be understood by me; but his lordship 
replied aloud, e it is of no consequence what they are 5 
provided they understand what they are about. 5 From 
this reply I concluded the priest had accused me of Meth 
odism. It happened, that I was the first of the circle 
presented round the altar, and began as follows : 

Bishop. What is your business here? 

Murray. My lord, when I was baptised, my sponsors 
promised, in my name, to renounce the devil and all his 
works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, with 
all the sinful lusts of the flesh. They engaged also, that 
so soon as I should have learned the creed, the Lord's 
prayer, and the ten commandments, they would introduce 
me to this ordinance; as, however, they have neglected 
so to do, I beg leave to present myself. 

Bishop. What idea have you of this ordinance? 

Murray* I conceive, my lord, that the engagements 
entered into at my baptism, cannot be fulfilled without 
the aid, and operation of the spirit of the Lord; and I am 
taught to consider this ordinance as a means of grace, 
through which I may obtain the aid of the Holy Spirit 5 so 
requisite to my well doing, 



30 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

Bishop. (With a softened voice) Have you ever been 
at the communion ? 

Murray. Yes, my lord, and although I ventured at 
first with fear, and trembling, yet deriving there-from real 
consolation, I have never since absented myself. c you are 
right, said the Bishop, and immediately laying his hands 
upon my head, he prayed for me with the greatest appa- 
rent fervor. Turning to a lad, who stood next me, he 
asked him the same question he had previously addressed 
to me : he was unprovided with an answer. 6 This is 
astonishing,' said the bishop ; c I should have thought you 
would at least have learned to answer from the youth 
who spoke before you; ' and he gave my priest a glance, 
which called the blush of confusion into his face. I was 
extremely gratified, so were my friends in general, and 
my pious father in particular. Mr. John Wesley now 
made us a visit, he paid me the most distinguished attention, 
and the regards of such a man were, to a young heart, 
truly flattering; he cherished the idea, that I should shortly 
become a useful laborer in the field, which he so sedu- 
lously cultivated. One thing, however, gave him anxie- 
ty, — the probability that I had imbibed my father's dam- 
nable principles, for such he denominated the Calvinistic 
tenets; yet he hoped better things of me, and things 
which accompanied salvation. When in my father's 
house, he manifested toward him the greatest kindness 
and friendship; but on leaving the country, he charged 
his followers to keep a strict watch over him, lest, through 
the influence of his great piety, he should infuse his abom- 
inable sentiments into the minds of some of the breth- 
ren. Mr. Wesley's disciples considered him the apostle 
of the age : and I experienced a reverential awe in his 
presence; yet there were points in his conduct, which ex- 
cited my wonder, and which, in any other character, I 
should not have hesitated to pronounce wrong; but I 
should have believed it criminal even to suspect that he 
could err. My religion was becoming more and more 
formal, it seemed a body without a soul. Sometimes, 
indeed, when listening to a lively, warm-hearted preach- 
er, I was made most keenly to feel the poverty of my 
condition; that, while I was believed rich, and increasing 
in goods, having need of nothing, I was in truth misera- 
bly poor, blind and naked. This consideration often 
rended me sad, in proportion as I appeared to suffer: I 
became the object of respectful attention. Glooms, and 
melancholy, were considered as infallible signs of a gra- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



31 



cious disposition, not only by my father, but by all my 
religious connexions. One of our preachers used to say, 
he had rather be in the company of a thousand demons, 
than ten laughing persons ! Unfortunately for the main- 
tenance of my standing in the society, my sadness was 
not uniform, and, preserving no medium, I always be- 
came gay in full proportion to my previous depression; 
and, in truth, cheerfulness was becoming the prevailing 
temper of my mind, and I know not how long it might 
have continued so, if I had not observed, to my great con- 
sternation, that I was daily loosing ground in the estima- 
tion of my associates. This conviction banished my dan- 
gerous vivacity, and restored my respectability. I now 
sedulously avoided society, and frequently envied those 
who were released from this dangerous world. I have 
often, after a night of suffering, risen with the dawn 5 
and entering the church-yard, have passed hours there, 
contemplating the happy state of those who were lodged 
in their narrow house, and ardently longed to be as they 
were. Even my father began to fear that I was rapidly 
declining, and by his consequent tenderness I was beyond 
expression touched. 

I cannot now determine how long this frame of mind 
continued, but this I know, that it lasted long enough to 
gain me more reputation, both at home and abroad, than 
I had lost; there was such a variety in my feelings, the 
changes in my spirit from sad to gay, from gay to sad, 
were so frequent, that I had of course far more experi- 
ence, than any other person of my age. The young, 
when under awakenings, always resorted to me for com- 
fort and information, while the old hung with delight on 
my narrations: the prayers of my father obtained due 
credit; the child of so many prayers could only be as I 
was. I was at this time about sixteen years of age, but 
commencing life so early, I felt like twenty, and I antici- 
pated all the enjoyments which awaited me. 

About this period, our society was gratified by a most 
unexpected acquisition. A gentleman of great fortune, 
who had been a virulent opposer of the Methodists, be- 
came a zealous convert to their tenets, and with his lady 
joined our congregation; no event had ever given such 
exultation, such complete satisfaction. They had be- 
longed to the Presbyterian meeting, and their numerous 
kindred, worshipping there, continued inveterate adver- 
saries. Between my father and the new convert the 
warmest friendship took place; and his good lady, who^ 
was indeed one of the first of women, became as warmly 



m 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



attached to oar family as her husband. They had been 
converted at the same time ; and as new converts are 
always the most zealous, this good couple, although ad- 
vanced in years, used to rise at four in the morning, in 
the depth of winter, and go round among the neighbors, 
in order to arouse them in time to attend morning service, 
which was regularly at five o'clock, winter and summer; 
our house being in the way, they never omitted calling 
upon us; my father was not always well enough to ac- 
company them, but I never failed, and the delight they 
took in me was great. Their family consisted of two 
sons, one older than myself, and one of my own age, and 
two daughters younger than their brothers: for a long 
season this family, and ours, spent at least a part of every 
day together; they met constantly at church, and had 
beside many private interviews. Mr. Little, the name 
of our new friend, belonged to a class of which my father 
was the leader, and Mrs. Little to my mother's band. 
The classes generally consisted of twelve, beside the 
leader. The band was formed from the classes, and, 
consisted of six, beside the leader. These bands were 
composed of true believers, and of one sex and condition : 
The single women, the married women, and the widows; 
the single men, the married men, and the widowers. My 
mother was a leader of a band of married women. The 
youth, I have mentioned of my own age, sought and ob- 
tained my confidence; I conceived for him the warmest 
affection, and I had every reason to suppose the attach- 
ment mutual; we passed many delightful hours together, 
and the discovery of our friendship gave real satisfaction 
to our parents. The eldest son adhered to the church, 
the family had left; and the only daughter who was of 
age to decide, embraced the principles of her parents. 
From our connexion with these worthy people, I derived 
great pleasure; I was much beloved by the principals of 
the family, and I had great delight in the society of their 
children. I have frequently retired with my young friend 
to read, and pray : we had in fact no solitary pleasures. 
It was in the closet of this friend, that I first became ac- 
quainted with Addison, Pope, Parnel, Thomson, and 
Shakspeare; we read those writings together; never shall 
I forget the avidity with which I seized, and the delight 
with which I perused those authors; I was beyond ex- 
pression fascinated by their numbers; but I thought best 
carefully to conceal this new source of enjoyment from 
my father. The library, to which I thus obtained free 
access was very extensive: besides the books already 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



33 



named, it contained much to attract a young mind; novels, 
essays, and histories, by a frequent perusal of which, I 
was both informed and improved. Thus, in the full en- 
joyment of sweet serenity, glided on many happy months; 
my time was divided between the habitation of my father, 
and his friend. I enjoyed the warm regards of every in- 
dividual of this amiable family, the eldest son excepted, 
nor was he a malignant foe; he contented himself with 
making a jest of our devotion, which only served to attach 
us more closely to each other : but, as the affection of the 
youngest son grew for me, it appeared to diminish for his 
brother. This fact rendered his parents unhappy, and I 
myself was seriously afflicted, lest I should be regarded 
either directly, or indirectly, as the source of their inqui- 
etude. They, however, did not hesitate to impute to their 
eldest son's aversion from religion everything unpleasant 
between their children, and I had credit for my full share of 
that rectitude and correct conduct, to which their young- 
est son was, by nature, so uniformly inclined. It must, 
however, be confessed, that the first-born was not without 
causes of irritation; I was evidently the brother of his 
brother's affection, I was the object of his parents' regard, 
his eldest sister discovered, on all occasions, a very strong 
partiality for me, and even the youngest, a child of about 
six years old, made me the confidant of all her little se- 
crets, often hung about my neck, with infantile fondness, 
while her sweet endearments were precious to my heart. 
It was not then, I repeat, very wonderful, if the young 
gentleman, who felt himself aggrieved, should become very 
unhappy , and very much my enemy. While I was thus 
considered as a child of this family, a young lady, a dis- 
tant relation of Mrs. Little, was introduced as a visitor; 
she also was a Methodist, and of great piety. My young 
friend and myself, were in the parlor when she entered, 
but soon withdrew, when we both agreed, she was the 
most ordinary young woman we had ever beheld; she 
was I presume, more than twenty-five years of age, under 
the common stature, of a very sallow complexion, large 
features, and a disagreeable cast in her eye; yet this same 
young lady had not been more than three weeks under the 
same roof with us, before we both became violently in love 
with her. Many days however elapsed, before either be- 
came acquainted with the passion of the other; but I could 
never conceal any thing long, especially from this my sec- 
ond self; and on a summer evening, as we pursued our 
usual walk through a flowery mead, on the margin of a 
beautiful river, both sadly pensive and sighing, as if our 



34 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



hearts were breaking, my friend mournfully inquired - T 
'What, my dear Murray, afflicts you? why are you so 
sad? 5 I am ashamed of myself, I cannot tell you the cause 
of my distress. c Not tell me ! would you, can you conceal 
any thing from me?' I felt the full force of a question, 
asked in a tone of endearing sympathy. No, my friend, 
you shall be made acquainted with my whole heart; I will 
have no reserves to you; but you, you also are unhappy, 
and I am ignorant of the cause ! c Depend on it, I shall 
not hesitate to give you every mark of confidence, when 
you shall set the example. 5 Well then, my brother, my 
friend, will you not wonder, (and indeed I am myself as- 
tonished) when I assure you, that I have conceived for 
Miss Dupee the strongest and most tender passion ! He 
started, appeared confused, and for some moments we 
both continued silent. At length, taking my hand, he 
said: c I pity you, from my soul, nor do I blame your at- 
tachment; for, however unattractive in person, who that 
hears Miss Dupee converse, who that has any knowledge 
of her mind, can avoid loving her, even as you love her; 
and to prove to you how fully I am qualified to sympathize 
with you, let me frankly own, that I also love this charm- 
ing woman. 5 This unexpected avowal greatly afflicted 
me: I trembled lest so strong a passion for the same ob- 
ject, should eventually prove fatal to our friendship. I 
expressed to this dear, amiable youth my apprehensions, 
when he caught my hand, and with glistening eyes, ex- 
claimed; c Never, my brother,-no never shall any thing 
separate between thee and me. By first communicating 
your sentiments, you have acquired a prior right, which 
I will not, dare not invade. No one else shall hear of 
my infant love; I will not allow myself to see her, but 
when seated by your side; and although I love her more 
than any body I ever have, or, as I believe ever shall see, 
I never will be the cause of your unhappiness. 5 This 
generosity was truly affecting. I caught him to my bo- 
som; I wept, I even sobbed as I held him to my heart, 
and unable to bear his superiority, I exclaimed: No, my 
noble-hearted friend, never will I accept such a sacrifice : 
we are yet to learn for which of us her heavenly Father 
has designed this treasure. Let us both, as occasion may 
occur, indulge ourselves in her society, and should the 
event prove that you are the highly favored mortal, I hope, 
and believe, I shall willingly resign her, and content my- 
self with listening to her heavenly accents. And, truth 
to say, she possessed a most enchanting voice; a most 
fascinating manner, admirably calculated to gain hearts. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



35 



especially young hearts, simple, and softened by religion; 
and, what was above all bewitching, she sang the most 
divine of Mr. Wesley's hymns in a most divinely impres- 
sive manner. While, however, we were mutually ac- 
ceding to this wise plan for the disposal of Miss Dupee, 
it never once entered into our heads, that she very possi- 
bly was not designed for either of us. Perhaps few 
youthful bosoms have ever endured a greater conflict be- 
tween love and friendship : We experienced both in no com- 
mon degree, but friendship in both our hearts became 
triumphant. The amiable woman continued, for some 
time, decidedly the object of our deliberate election; but I 
had, however, reason to believe my attachment the 
strongest, for it deprived me of both rest and appetite. 
For the first time I began to tag rhymes : I have sat by 
the hour together upon an eminence, whence I could be- 
hold her habitation, poetizing, and sighing, as if my heart 
would break; I had some reason to believe she had dis- 
covered, and was diverted with my passion; indeed she 
must have laughed at me, if she had not despised me. 
After a long struggle between my hopes, and my fears, I 
ventured to address a letter to Miss Dupee, filled with 
the warmest professions of eternal affection, and conjur- 
ing her, at least to grant me leave to hope. 1 dared not 
entrust a domestic with this letter, lest it should be dis- 
covered by my father, for the dread of meeting a refu- 
sal from my mistress was not more terrible to my imagi- 
nation, than that my father should obtain knowledge of my 
temerity. One night, therefore, returning from the so- 
ciety, with fear, and trembling, I put my letter into her hand, 
humbly requesting she would honor it with a secret perusal. 
She took it, and, gypsey as she was absolutely pressed 
my hand, which pressure almost suffocated me with 
transport; I parted from her at the door, and from that 
moment neither slept, nor ate, till I was cured, radically 
cured. It was upon a Wednesday night, I delivered my 
letter : what did I not suffer from the torture of suspense, 
until Friday evening; nothing could I hear of, or from 
her; I was afraid to go to Mr. Little's, I feared every 
thing, but the thing I had the most reason to fear — the 
contempt and indignation of my own father. It never 
once entered my thoughts, that she would communicate 
my letter to any one, and least of all that she would ex- 
pose me to my father; but instead of writing me an 
answer, such an answer as my fond, foolish heart, some- 
times ventured to expect, she inclosed my very first love- 
letter, to the very last person in the world to whom I 



B6 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



should have chosen to confide it ! I was at this time de- 
bilitated by the want of rest and food, which, for the pre- 
ceding fortnight, 1 had rarely taken, and upon this Friday 
evening, as f entered the presence of my father, an un- 
usual dread pervaded my spirits. It is too true, I never ap- 
peared before him, without apprehension; but, upon this 
occasion I was unusually agitated: but how were my terrors 
augmented, when my father, with a countenance of the 
most solemn indignation, ordered me to approach. The sea- 
son of castigation had gone by; indeed my father was too 
feeble to administer corporeal chastisement; but, like the 
Prince of Denmark, although he did not use daggers, he 
could speak them — he could look them. I cannot now 
remember who, or rather how many, were present; my 
mother, and my brothers and sisters of course. My poor 
mother, I am confident, felt keenly for me, although she 
dared not interfere. c Come hither, sir, 5 said my father; 
c approach, I say. 5 I drew near, with fear and trembling, 
but yet I knew not why: when, fixing his piercing, pene- 
trating eyes upon me, with a look of such sovereign con- 
tempt, as almost struck me blind, he began very delib- 
erately to search his pockets; after a pause, which seem- 
ed interminable, out came a letter. I was instantaneous- 
ly covered with a most profuse perspiration ; I trembled 
and became so faint, that I was obliged to catch at a 
chair for support. But my father continued slowly open- 
ing the killing letter, and looking alternately at it, and 
its author, and curling his nose, as if his olfactory nerve 
had been annoyed by something extremely offensive, he 
again fixed his eyes upon me and tauntingly said: c So, 
you poor, foolish child, you write love-letters, do you I 
you want a wife, do you? 5 and, feigning an attempt to 
read it, but pretending inability, he extended it to me, 
saying: c Take it, thou love-sick swain, and let us hear 
how thou addressest thy Dulcinea. 5 I burst into tears a 
but I confess they were tears of wrathful indignation, and 
at that moment I detested the lady, my father, and my- 
self. c Go, 5 continued my father 6 Go, thou idle boy, de- 
part instantly out of my sight: 5 and out of his sight I 
accordingly went, almost wishing I might never again 
appear before him. This night I parted with my passion 
for Miss Dupee; I sighed for an opportunity of open* 
ing my heart to my ever faithful friend, I expected con- 
solation from him; and I was not disappointed. "Suspect- 
ing the business was the subject of conversation in the 
house of Mr. Little, I determined to go thither no more: 
with my friend, however, I took my usual walk; he per-* 



2LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



37 



ceived the sadness of my soul, but it was a consolation to 
me to learn, that he was ignorant of the cause: I poured 
my grief into his bosom, and his indignation was un- 
bounded; hatred for Miss Dupee grew in his soul; yet, 
when I knew she had the goodness never to communi- 
cate my folly to any one, but my father, and this in a irp 
vate letter, I could not but esteem her. So here rested 
the affair, and I wrote no more love-letters, until I ad 
dressed the lady whom I married. Though I was not 
by this torturing business exempted from la belle pas- 
sion, yet I was prevented by my fears from its manifest 
tation. In fact it was not until I was in a situation to 
make an election, as I supposed for life, that I was again 
condemned to struggle with a sentiment so imposing, as 
that which had occasioned me so much vexation. Many 
fair faces attracted, and for a time fixed my attention, 
and I sometimes looked forward to the brightest, purest 
scenes of domestic felicity, which were however as vision- 
ary, as could have been conceived, in the pericranium of 
the most confirmed lunatic. 

The religious melancholy, so pleasing to my father, 
again took possession of my mind; once more at early 
dawn I haunted the church-yard, frequently repeating to 
myself, 

' The man how blest, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 
Is led by choice to take his favorite walk 
Beneath death's gloomy, silent cypress shades, 
To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 
Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs/ 

The intervening hours of public worship, on Sunday., 
were passed by me at church, in appropriate meditation 
and prayer : the solemn stillness of the place aided my 
aspirations, and rendered me abundantly more gloomy; 
but the versatility of my disposition still gave me to 
emerge, and I was then proportionably vivacious. In this 
zigzag manner I proceeded, gaining something every day, 
while I enjoyed a fine state of health, and the happiness 
of being much beloved by a large circle of respectable 
connexions. I still continued to cultivate my garden; it 
was the best in the place, and being seen and admired by 
many, my pious brethren were apprehensive it would be- 
come my idol; but we all have our idols. Mr. Wesley 
was the idol of the many. One evening at a love-feast, 
when the whole society were assembled, a pious sister, 
while narrating her experiences, looked earnestly at Mr. 
Wesley, vehemently exclaimed : c O ! sir, I consider my- 
4* 



ss 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



self as much indebted to God for you, as for Jesus Christ ! 
The whole company were greatly surprised, and, as I 
believe, expected Mr. Wesley would have reproved her 
for this speech ; but it passed, without any then expressed 
observation. The ensuing day it became the subject of 
animadversion, when I undertook to defend her, by re- 
marking, that as she never could have had any advantage 
from Jesus Christ, if she had never heard of, and believed 
in him; she certainly was as much indebted to Almighty 
God for sending Mr. Wesley, through whom she obtain- 
ed this redeeming knowledge, as for the Saviour, in whom 
she believed ! ' 

My close connexion with my young friend, although 
very pleasant to my social propensities, subjected me, 
nevertheless, to some pain. He was indulged with more 
pocket money, + han I could command; and although he 
considered his stipend never so well employed, as when 
it contributed to my convenience, yet, disliking depend- 
ence, I had recourse to methods of obtaining money, 
which did not always please me; I sometimes borrowed, 
and sometimes solicited gifts from my mother, which I 
did not find it eas}^ to repay. It would have been well if 
neither my companion, nor myself, had been in the habit 
of spending money; we derived there-from no advantage; 
it introduced us into company, where we were apt to 
forget ourselves; it is true we were never inebriated, but 
we were often gay, and, for religious characters, too much 
off our guard. This dear youth was not, like me, habitu- 
ated to religion, he was not early disciplined by its most 
rigid laws; I could with abundantly more facility turn 
aside with him, than he could pursue with me the nar- 
row path, in which I had generally walked. We became 
gradually too fond of pleasures, which would not bear 
examination; yet they were such as the world denomina- 
ted innocent, although they strongly impelled us to grati- 
fications disallowed by religion. We were now fast ad- 
vancing in life, and, with all the enthusiasm of youth, we 
were planning schemes for futurity, when lo ! my pre- 
cious, my early friend, was seized by a malignant fever, 
which soon deprived him of his reason. I was on the 
verge of distraction, I entreated permission to tarry con- 
stantly by his bedside; the progress of the disease was as- 
tonishingly rapid, and in a few days this dear, this amiable 
youth, whom I loved as my own soul, expired in a strong 
delirium ! Every one regretted the departure of this young 
man, every one sympathized with his parents, and many 
extended pity to me. I was indeed beyond expression 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



39 



wretched; it was the first calamity of the kind, which I 
had ever been called to suffer, and my agonies were in 
full proportion to the strong affection, which I had con- 
ceived for the deceased. Society no longer possessed a 
charm for me, and yet the parents of the dear departed 
never willingly permitted me to quit their presence; in- 
deed, the love they had borne their son, seemed to be en- 
tirely transferred to me; but their sufferings were incal- 
culably augmented, when, in a few succeeding weeks, 
their eldest and only surviving son, fell a victim to the 
same fatal malady, which had deprived them of his broth- 
er ! Never before did I witness such sad and heart-af- 
fecting sorrow: a gloomy religion is always increased by 
scenes of melancholy, hence the horrors of my mind were 
beyond description. Every thing I had done, every word 
I had uttered, not strictly conformable to the rule of right, 
returned upon my mind with redoubled terror, and in the 
midst of these agonizing fears, I was violently seiz.ed by 
the same fever, which had destroyed my friend. I was, 
upon the first appearance of this mortal disease, exceed- 
ingly alarmed, but in a few hours it prostrated my reason; 
my mother appeared to me as a stranger, and although 
I recognised my father, I was not afraid of him. I un- 
derstood every thing which was said by those about me, 
and I suffered much in consequence of their expressed 
apprehensions and predictions : and I have often thought, 
that attendants in the chamber of sickness do not sufficient- 
ly consider the situation of the suffering patient, or the 
possibility, that the freedom of their remarks may aug- 
ment his depression. I continued to linger, in the midst 
of extreme torture, through many weeks; and so high 
and unremitted was my delirium, that my parents, from 
a persuasion that, should I be restored to health, my rea- 
son was forever lost, were reconciled to my departure. 
One particular I consider as astonishing; every thing, 
which passed in my mind through the whole of this pro- 
tracted delirium, 1 can to this day recollect as well as any 
event which has taken place in any part of my life. Con- 
trary to the expectations of surrounding friends, I was 
gradually restored to perfect health, when I became still 
more endeared to the parents of my deceased companion; 
they would have laid me in their bosoms, gladly cherish- 
ing me as the son of their affection. The old gentleman 
visited my father every day, and his lady was equally 
intimate with my mother. I wept with them, I prayed 
with them, and every day our mutual attachment ac- 
quired new energy. They expressed their wishes to my 



40 



LIFE OF RET. JOHN MURRAY. 



father, that I should become a permanent resident in their 
family. My father apparently terrified, was unqualified 
in his rejection I It would injure me by too high-raised ex- 
pectations^ it would give me indulgences fatal to my future 
peace and happiness. For myself, I had recently enter- 
tained an exalted opinion of my father; and for his re- 
peated, and, as I once believed, severe chastisements, 
gratitude glowed in my bosom; consequently I was not 
inclined to act contrary to his wishes in any respect, and 
he had sufficient address to avoid offending his friends. 
In fact, so exalted was their opinion of his wisdom, and 
piety, that they would have considered it criminal to cen- 
sure him. 

I was now the very shadow of my father: I visited, it is 
true; but it was always under his guardian care. He be- 
gan to derive pleasure from conversing with me, and 
our satisfaction was mutual : still, however, I experienc- 
ed, in his presence, more of reverential awe, than filial 
tenderness; yet I gained more from his society in the 
last six months of his existence, than I had for many pre- 
ceding years. His gradual decline, at length, rapidly ad- 
vanced; suddenly he became too much enfeebled to go 
abroad; his friends, who were numerous, visited him 
frequently. Mr. Little, and lady, were almost constantly 
with him : they congratulated him, that God had heard 
his prayers, and given him a son to supply his place, 
when he should be called home; this, indeed, he consid- 
ered as a great consolation. Often with tears of pleas- 
ure has he wept over me, solemnly consecrating me by 
fervent prayer and devout supplication. His devotional 
exercises, in his family, were continued until the last 
week of his existence; even when his voice was so low, 
that he could scarce articulate a word, we were drawn 
around him, when in whispers, as it were, he would in the 
most moving manner, address the throne of grace in 
our behalf; and for me, as his first-born son, his orisons 
were still more frequently offered up, and always with 
tears. For many years my father had lost his apprehen- 
sions of death; but he always suffered more or less in the 
dread of dying. The taking down the house of his 
earthly tabernacle, — the agonies of dissolving nature, — 
these anticipations frequently appalled his soul. We 
had got into passion week; my father was taken from his 
bed every day, until Good Friday, when it was impress- 
ed upon his mind, that he should be with his Redeem- 
er upon Easter Sunday. He indirectly communicated 
this assurance to my mother; commanding me to be im- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



41 



mediately summoned to his presence, when he thus ad- 
dressed me: * My son, the object of my souls' affection, 
for whom, during many years, I have wept and prayed, 
you see your weeping, praying father, now totally unable 
to utter a prayer, nor shall I ever pray in this dear family 
again. Let me, my dear, before I leave you, have the fe- 
licity of seeing, and hearing you take upon you the char- 
acter you will very speedilybe called to sustain; let me hear 
you pray in the family, before Idepart.' There was some- 
thing terrible in the thought of his departure, though we 
had for many years been taught to expect it, not only by 
his declining health, but by his conversation, which had 
rendered us familiar with death. I cannot remember a 
day, on which he did not, on his first appearance in his 
family of a morning, say, c Blessed be God, we are one day 
nearer our eternal rest:' yet the thought of assuming his 
place in his family, in his presence; this was more terrible 
to me than death itself. I became convulsed; a cold per- 
spiration was diffused over my frame; my father saw my 
agony, and bidding me sit down, took my hand, and ad- 
dressing me in the language of sympathy, most affection- 
ately, most tenderly said; c You have, my poor boy, often 
addressed your heavenly Father, and have not felt abash- 
ed: ought you to venerate your feeble, earthly father, more 
than the God who made you ? At the throne of grace I am 
upon a level with my son, and I need redeeming mercy as 
much as yourself. Let me, my dear child, be blessed with 
the privilege of seeing, and hearing you, in your new, and 
highly responsible character, this night. 5 I was dumb, I 
could not speak : my mother was requested to summon 
the family. 6 Come, 5 said my father, c come near me my 
children. God is about to remove from you your father, 
your supplicating father; but my God, your God, will 
never leave you, nor forsake you. He will give you, in 
your brother, a friend, a guide, a father; you must con- 
sider him, when I am gone, as in my stead; you will unite 
with him in prayer, you will follow his direction, and God 
will abundantly bless you together. My prayers on his 
behalf are graciously answered; they will, my beloved 
children, be answered on your behalf also; for He, who 
hath promised, is faithful, your father hath proved Him 
faithful. Our God is indeed worthy to be trusted, His 
service is perfect freedom; serve the Lord, my children, 
and be happy; obey your dear mother, strengthen the 
hands of your brother, and felicity will be your portion. 5 
He would have proceeded, but weakness prevented; re- 
covering himself, he called upon me to make good his 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



expectations; I kneeled down by his bedside in convul^ 
sive agony, my mother kneeling upon the opposite side; 
my brothers and sisters forming a circle which surround- 
ed it, while the domestics kneeled near us. I prayed, I 
wept, I audibly sobbed: while my, only not divine, father, 
was in exstacy. When I had finished, c Now, O Lord,' 
he exclaimed, £ let thy servant depart in peace, for mine 
eyes have seen, for my ears have heard, for my heart has 
felt thy salvation. Come near me, my darling boy.' 
Instantly I ran, and again I kneeled by his bedside; he 
drew my head to his bosom, he wept over me, but his tears 
were tears of transport, when 3 laying his dying hand upon 
my head, he thus fervently supplicated: c O thou, Almighty- 
God, who hath thus blessed, greatly blessed thy poor ser- 
vant: Thou who hast been my God, and my guide, even 
unto death, bless, oh ! bless this son, with whom thou hast 
blessed thy feeble supplicant: Give him thy supporting 
presence through life, direct him in the way he should 
go, and never leave him, nor forsake him : Father, Son, 
and Holy Ghost, thou covenant-keeping God, bless, bless, 
O ! bless this lad — 3 Here his heart swelled too big for ut- 
terance; after a few moments, recovering himself a lit- 
tle he mildly requested me to place him properly in his 
bed. I was beyond measure shocked to see what a skele- 
ton he had become, his bones in many places through his 
skin. It was my wish to tarry with him through the 
night, but I could not obtain permission. c Go, my dear 
son,' said he, c go to rest, and the God of your fathers be 
ever with you.' This was the last time I ever heard his 
voice; before the morning dawned, 1 was summoned to 
attend not a dying, but a deceased parent, whose value, 
until that agonizing moment, I had never sufficiently ap- 
preciated. My mother continued by his bedside, over- 
whelmed by sorrow; the slumbers of my father were 
sweet, calm, and unbroken, until near midnight, when she 
perceived he was awake, and believing him to be speak 
mg, she inclined her ear to his lips, and heard him say, 
while his heart, his full heart, seemed nearly bursting: 
c The souls of believers are at their death made perfectly 
holy, and do immediately pass into glory; but their bodies, 
being still united to Christ, do rest in their graves till the 
resurrection.' After a pause, he resumed: c At the res- 
urrection, they shall be openly acknowledged, and ac- 
quitted in the day of judgment, and made perfectly bless- 
ed in the full enjoyment of God through eternity: Bless- 
ed, perfectly bless — .' Blessed, he would have said, but 
he breathed no more. When I approached the bed of 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



43 



death, I beheld the remains of the departed saint, pre- 
cisely in the position in which a few hours before I had 
placed him. Not a single struggle had the dear appre- 
hensive man, during those expiring moments, which, 
through his whole life; he had expected would be produc- 
tive of such extreme torture. He slept in Jesus, in full 
confidence of a glorious resurrection. 

From this hour, until the interment, our house was 
thronged; but of all our numerous friends, who by their 
presence expressed their sympathy, no individuals ap- 
peared more deeply affected than my future patrons, Mr. 
and Mrs, Little. My father was very dear to Mr. Little; 
he mingled his tears with the widow, and her orphans. 
It was unnecessary to tell me I had sustained an irrepara- 
ble loss: my hearty my pierced heart, was every moment 
making the avowal; I could now full}/ appreciate my father's 
worth; 1 felt I was bereaved, miserably bereaved; left to 
myself, and I knew myself well enough to justify the 
most spirit-wounding apprehensions. I retired to my 
chamber, to my closet, secretly indulging my overwhelm- 
ing sorrow, and if I ever experienced the fervor of de- 
votion, it was then, when, throwing abroad my supplica- 
ting hands I petitioned the God of my father to be my God 
also, entreating that he would graciously vouchsafe to 
preserve me from myself, my sinful self: all the hard, 
undutiful reflections, which I had secretly tolerated 
against this good, this honored man, while he was en- 
during exquisite sufferings for the purpose of preserving 
me from evil, rushed upon my recollection, and an innate 
monitor seemed to say : c You may now, ungrateful boy, 
go where you please; the prying eye of a father will no 
more inspect your conduct.' It was now, in these mo- 
ments of torture, that my father, as it should seem, first 
became known to me. It is true, he was severely good, 
his conscience was indeed sorely tender; but, as far as he 
knew, he performed the will of God, at least in as great 
a measure as he was able, and when he believed himself 
deficient, as he almost always did, it gave him great pain. 
The uniform sanctity of his life commanded the respect, 
the esteem, the affection, and even the veneration of all 
who knew him. He possessed an uncommon share of 
natural a ilities, and his acquirements were very re- 
spectable. He had read much; History, Natural Philos- 
ophy, Poetry, these were all familiar to him; but the 
sacred Scriptures, and books of devotion, were his de- 
light. Human productions constituted his amusement, 
but the word of God was his food. He was so acute a 



44 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY. 



reasoner, that it was difficult to gain any advantage over 
him in argument; yet he was easily provoked, but imme- 
diately sensible of error 3 every deviation from propriety 
was marked by tears. He had so much self-command, 
as never to strike a child in a passion; this he denominat- 
ed a demoniac sacrifice ; he would first correct the angry 
man; but however painful the act, he never omitted 
what he conceived it his duty to bestow. He was a very 
tender-hearted man, and his prayers we're rarely unac- 
companied by tears. He mourned with the mourner, 
for he was himself a man of sorrow. Being for the 
last nineteen years of his life a confirmed invalid, he was 
constantly and fervently looking towards his heavenly 
home — sometimes with impatience, when, correcting him- 
self, he would say, c Well, well, heaven is worth waiting 
for; one hour, passed in the courts of my God, will be a 
rich remuneration for all terrestrial sufferings. 5 

It is the custom in Ireland, when any person of dis- 
tinction or respectability is called out of time, to watch 
around their remains, night as well as day, until the body 
be ontombed. The remains of my father were affection- 
ately attended, but they were attended in an uncommon 
manner; as he differed from others in life, so these last 
honors differed from those usually bestowed. The 
morning immediately succeeding his demise, our friends 
and neighbors assembled in our dwelling, when Mr. Lit- 
tle thus addressed them: c My friends, it has pleased God 
to take unto himself the soul of our beloved brother: as 
he lived, so he died, a pattern of excellence; we know, 
we feel, that he has not left his equal. We unite with 
this dear family in sensibly lamenting the departure of 
our experienced friend, our guide, our comforter. 3 Here 
he mingled his tears with those of our attendant friend. 
After a long pause, he proceeded: 6 Fellow mourners, the 
greatest respect we can pay to the remains of our inesti- 
mable, our heavenly guide, is to pass our time together in 
this house of mourning, not only for him, but for our- 
selves, in the way which would be most pleasing to him, 
were he present; we will therefore appropriate our hours 
to reading, and to prayer. One of our brethren will ad- 
dress the throne of grace, after which I will read a ser- 
mon, the production of Mr. Erskine, whose writings the 
dear departed was remarkably fond.' The prayer, the 
sermon, the concluding prayer, deeply affected everyone; 
and the evening witnessed a renewal of these pious ex- 
ercises. Thus were our nights and days devoted, until 
the interment. On that day the throng was prodigious. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



45 



The worth, the good actions of my father, were the 
theme of many a tongue ; his praises were echoed, and 
re-echoed, while tears of sorrow moistened many an eye. 
Every one bore in his, or her hand, to the grave-yard, a 
sprig of bays, which, after the body was deposited, was 
thrown over the coffin. But no words can describe my 
agonizing, my terrific sensations, when I reflected upon 
the charge which had devolved upon me. I remember- 
ed my father's words, on the evening preceding his exit, 
and 1 felt myself reduced to the necessity of assuming his 
place in the family; but how much was I to suffer by 
comparison with him, whose place I was appointed to 
fill : yet, had I wished to avoid entering upon my office, 
my mother, the friends of my father, would have borne 
testimony against me. They thronged around me, they 
entreated me immediately to take charge of the family, 
and to commence my arduous task by devout supplica- 
tions to Almighty God I complied with their united 
wishes; but no tongue can utter, no language can delin- 
eate the strong emotions of my soul; again I was convuls- 
ed, again I agonized; the whole family were inexpressi- 
bly affected. It was the most melancholy evening I had 
ever experienced; but my benighted spirit was sudden- 
ly refreshed, by a ray of consolation, emitted by the 
cheering hope, that my father's God would be my God, 
and that the fervent prayers he had offered up, in my 
behalf, would be answered in my favor. I was encourag- 
ed too by my mother, and by the friends of my father, who 
besought the Lord in my behalf and were daily reminding 
me of the interest, which my deceased parent unquestion- 
ably had with the prayer-hearing God. 

Yet, although soothed, and greatly stimulated, my new 
employment continued to distress and appal my spirit. 
The conviction of every day assured me, that I was un- 
equal to the arduous task I had undertaken. My mother 
was my ever-ready aid and counsellor; but my brothers 
and sisters always remembered, that I was not their fa- 
ther; and they were highly displeased, whenever I pre- 
sumed to exercise over them paternal authority; yet this 
I believed to be my duty, and, that I might be in every 
thing like my father, I took up the rod of correction, se- 
riously chastising my brother, for the purpose of restor- 
ing him to the narrow path, from which he had wander- 
ed. But, although I had learned of my father to use the 
rod, I never could make it answer the same purpose; in 
my hand, it only served to increase the evil, it became the 
signal of revolt; and, while my brother continued incor- 



46 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



rigible, my other brothers, and my sisters, enlisted on his 
side. My mother, dear honored sufferer, was ex- 
ceedingly distressed 5 she had in fact a difficult part to 
act; she was fearful, whichever side she might espouse, 
would, by creating new irritation, make bad worse, and 
yet, upon an occasion so interesting, we would not allow 
her to be silent; she must positively attend to our appeals. 
But however arduous her task, she possessed discretion 
sufficient to meet it, and to produce an ultimatum com- 
pletely satisfactory to all parties. 

She replied to our remonstrances, by a request to be al- 
lowed until the evening, succeeding our complaints, for 
serious deliberation. The interesting evening came, 
( Come my children, all equally dear to my soul: come, 
the doors are now shut; this is the time of evening ser- 
vice. There is the chair, which your pious, your affec- 
tionate father, once filled. Can you remember the last 
time he addressed you from that seat. Let me, my dear 
children, let me repeat, as well as my memory will per- 
mit, what he said to us the last time he addressed us from 
that chair. c Come,' said he, c come near me, my child- 
ren, 3 when, folding his arms around your elder brother, 
and pressing him to his bosom, while shedding over him 
abundance of tears, and pouring out his soul in supplica- 
tion for him, he most affectingly said: € I am, my dear 
child, hastening to that heaven, for which I have so long 
waited. For you, ever since you were born, I have wept 
and prayed; graciously hath my God inclined his ear to 
the voice of my supplication. He hath blessed me, by 
giving me to see you, before I die, prepared, by divine 
favor, to take my place; I leave you, my dear son, to act 
a father's part, when I shall be here no more; let your 
mother, jour brothers, and your sisters, receive from you 
that attention, and care, they can no more obtain from 
me; but, although I shall be no more with you, your God, 
your father's God, will never leave nor forsake you. Nay, 
my own beatified spirit may obtain increasing felicity, by 
being sometimes permitted to behold the order and har- 
mony of my beloved family, while collected before the 
throne of grace, with the love of God and love of each 
other glowing with divine exstasy in every bosom.' It 
was then, my precious children, that your devout father 
clasped you separately to his bosom; you remember how 
he then spake to you : c I go, my beloved children : you 
will no more hear my voice from this chair; I shall no 
more be able to pray with you, to advise, or to direct 
you. But, my children, I leave with you a brother, who 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



47 



will perform to you tne part of a father; I leave him in 
my place; it is my command, that he tread in my steps, 
as far as I have proceeded in the path of justice; and, my 
dear children, I conjure you to attend to his directions. 
The eldest son was, of old, the priest in the family of his 
f uller; and if you love me, if you love your mother, if 
you would prove your love to God, or even to yourselves 
contribute all in your power to strengthen the hands of 
your brother.' You remember he then embraced each of 
vou, and wept over you; and I pray you to remember, 
that you then solemnly promised, to perform all which 
your dying father directed you to perform. Perhaps the 
saint may be at this moment beholding us, in this very 
spot, in which a few days previous to his departure out 

of time, he so affectingly, so tenderly admonished us 

My mother paused, as if influenced by sacred awe of the 
presence she had supposed. We audibly wept; we rush- 
ed into each other's arms, we embraced each other, and 
so long as we continued together, our affection, our piety, 
and our devotion were uninterrupted. 



CHAPTER II, 



Record continued, until the Author's Departure from Ireland, 

Launched from the shore, on life's rough ocean tost, 
To my swoll'n eye my star of guidance lost; 
Torn, from my grasp, my path-directing helm, 
While waves, succeeding waves, my prospects whelm. 

By the malpractices of the second husband of my ma- 
ternal grandmother, a large share of my mothers patri- 
mony passed into other hands. I accidentally obtained 
intelligence of some fraudulent proceedings of the great 
personage, by whom it was then holden. We did not 
possess ability to support a prosecution for the recovery 
of our rights. Some time after the demise of my father, 
the person, who resided upon the estate, was sued for 
rent; to this person I communicated in confidence, what 
I knew to be fact. I assured him, the great man who 
retained the estate had no legal claim to it; and I advised 
him not to pay the rent. He followed my advice, and the 
business came before a court of judicature. The gentle- 



48 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



man, who sued the tenant, summoned me, as a witness, 
to prove that the tenant had occupied the house the speci- 
fied number of years; thus I was unexpectedly present at 
the trial, and the interference of Providence produced a 
result, far beyond our most sanguine expectations. The 
tenant denied the right of the landlord to demand the 
rent, alleging, that if he paid it to him, he might here- 
after be compelled to pay it to another. 'To whom?' 
interrogated the court. c To Mrs. Murray and her child- 
ren, to whom the estate in question properly belongs. 5 
I was called upon for an explanation, and f boldly pledg- 
ed myself to prove the truth of the testimony delivered by 
the tenant; adding that I could make such a statement, 
as would render the affair abundantly clear to their hon- 
ors. I was immediately silenced, by the lawyers upon 
the opposite side, who produced a deed of the contested 
property, signed, sealed, and delivered; I then requested 
the indulgence of the honorable court, while I observed, 
that, as I was not sufficiently opulent to procure council, 
I presumed to solicit permission to plead my own cause. 
Full consent was unhesitatingly granted; when I proved 
to the satisfaction of the court, and j ury, that this deed 
was signed, after the death of the husband of my grand- 
mother; and further, that, had the man been living, the 
right of the disposal was not vested in him. I consumed 
a full hour and a half, in unfolding a scene of wickedness, 
not to be defended; and I closed, by grateful acknowl- 
edgements to their honors, for the patience they had ex- 
ercised. The jury retired, and speedily returned with a 
verdict in favor of the tenant. I immediately entered my 
claim, and a trial commenced, which terminated in 
my favor; and I not only obtained the house in question, 
but two others, in like circumstances, to the no small sat- 
isfaction of the public, and the mortification of the great 
man and his lawyers. We immediately took possession 
of the house; and our utmost gratitude to that God, who 
had interposed for us, was most powerfully excited. 
Here I had a very large, and, in no long time, a very 
well improved garden; abounding with every thing useful, 
and beautiful; herbs, fruits, and flowers, in great abund- 
ance; and my situation was fully adequate to my wishes. 
Harmony presided in our family; but, alas! gradually, 
as by common consent; we grew more careless of our 
domestic duties, and more attentive to public affairs; de- 
riving a kind of amusement from w r hat was passing abroad, 
which we could not obtain at home. We had many vis- 
itors, and consequently we frequently visited; yet no in- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



49 



•dividuals were so dear to us, as were Mr. Little, and his 
amiable family. I have repeatedly observed, that both 
Mr. Little and his lady, had, from the death of their sons, 
regarded me even with parental affection; I was only not 
an inmate in their dwelling; and but for the charge, 
which the demise of my father had devolved upon me, 
they would not so long have delayed proposals, which 
in a most serious manner, they ultimately made to my 
mother. Mr. Little was rather advanced in years; he 
commenced his career without property, but he was 
prudent and industrious; his lady was equally so: she 
brought her husband no more than one hundred pounds 
sterling, but she was a portion in herself. Although un- 
commonly economical, and careful, her charities were 
yet very extensive; she could assist, she observed, the 
children of penury, without loss; for her resource was 
her own augmented industry. When this amiable couple 
became known to us, they possessed immense wealth; 
and they had now but two surviving children — daughters. 
We were passing a pleasant evening in their hospitable 
dwelling, throwing the eye of retrospection o\er past 
scenes, until our hearts were greatly softened. The de- 
parted sons, the deceased husband, and father, passed in 
review; and were alternately the subjects of conversa- 
tion and regret. At length, Mr. Little thus addressed us: 
' I have lost my sons, and I have long viewed you, my 
young friend, in the stead of my buried children : it is 
true, I have many nephews, and I am urgently solicited 
to receive one of them under my roof; but I do not feel 
a freedom so to do, although I must absolutely have some 
one to assist me in the arrangement of my affairs: and I 
now tender to you, my dear young man, to you, who 
have so long been beloved by every individual of my fami- 
ly; I offer to 3^ou, the place of a son in my house, in my 
heart. And if you, madam, will consent, and your son, 
thus sanctioned, will accept my proposal, he shall imme- 
diately take possession of the apartment of his deceased 
friend (my lamented son,) and I shall bless God for thus 
making up my loss. Mrs. Little, who sat by bathed in 
tears, most cordially united her solicitations: the offer 
was too great to be rejected, we accepted it with becom- 
ing gratitude, and, what rendered a proposal so liberal 
abundantly more pleasing, was an appearance, on the 
part of our benefactors, of having received instead of 
conferred an obligation. I attended my mother home, 
with mingled sensations of pain and pleasure; pain, from 
the consideration, that I was leaving a family, which 1 



50 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



had been accustomed to view as, in a very tender sense, 
my own; and with which I should never perhaps in like 
manner again associate: pleasure, from the reflection, 
that I was entering upon a new scene of life, from which 
I had a prospect, not only of independence, but affluence. 
It is true, upon my departure, which took place upon the 
succeeding morning, I wept bitterly, so did my widowed 
mother, and her children; and my tears again flowed, up- 
on entering the apartments of my dear young friend, 
with whom I had passed so many pleasing hours. But, 
I was received by my new parents, and sisters, as the 
dearest of sons, and as the brother of their affection. Joy 
soon exhilarated my spirits, and brightened upon my 
countenance: I had the warm congratulations of all my 
friends, for it was noised abroad, that this very opulent 
gentleman had adopted me as his son, and they went so 
far as to add, his son and heir. All this was very pleas- 
ing to me, but the kindred of Mr. Little were of course 
highly irritated, and I became so much the object of their 
envy and their hatred, that, whenever they visited their un- 
cle, without deigning to speak to me, they studiously sought 
opportunities of insulting me. This gave me pain, but it 
did me no real injury; for, upon every instance of invidious 
conduct toward me, my parental friends, and their fami- 
ly, especially their daughters, studiously augmented their 
testimonies of esteem and affection. 

After I had passed some months with Mr. Little, he 
was visited by a young preacher, just entering the sacer- 
dotal character, to whom I was much attached, and our 
friendship was mutual; I was prevailed upon by this 
preacher, to accomp-ny him upon a little journey; I de- 
parted with the sanction of my patron. I had, in the 
societies with which I had been connected, occasionally 
exhorted; and I had been frequently urged by several of 
their preachers to aid them in their labors. Upon this 
journey I was, if I may so express myself, absolutely 
ensnared; accompanying my friend to the assembled con- 
gregation, with an expectation of hearing him, he put his 
arm under mine, and helping me to ascend the temporary 
pulpit, erected for the occasion, he suddenly quitted me, 
and I was in a manner constrained to speak to the multi- 
tude. Thus, for the first time, I preached to a large con- 
course of serious and attentive hearers, in public; and, 
although at the appointed time I Returned to my much- 
loved home, I continued, as opportunity offered, from 
that time forward, preaching whenever I journeyed, and 
even at home, when necessitated by the absence of the 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



51 



preacher. This made some noise in our little world; but, 
as it was not displeasing to my honored friends, I was not 
dissatisfied. My inveterate enemies, however, being the 
nearest relations of the family in which I resided, were 
constantly endeavoring to undermine my interest in the 
heart of their kinsman. I was to pass some time in a 
neighboring city, and to render my visit more pleasing, 
my patron, at my departure, furnished me with a sum of 
money; this sum I carelessly put into my pocket, without 
examination, until calling in my way, upon my mother, I 
discovered, that my patron had, as I supposed, made a 
capital mistake; that he had given me gold, instead of 
silver. I mentioned this circumstance to my mother, in 
presence of one of her neighbors; and without announc- 
ing my design, I immediately returned home, for the pur- 
pose of rectifying the error. Upon my unexpected ap- 
pearance before Mr. Little, with information of his mis- 
take, he smiled, and said, that he never kept his gold and 
silver together. 6 It was my design,' said he, c to give you 
gold, but I advise you not to throw it away. 5 I pursued 
my journey, and passed my time agreeably; but whether 
I threw away the bounty of my benefactor, I do not, at 
this period, recollect: I only know that I brought not a 
shilling home with me : in fact, I was never sufficiently 
sensible of the value of money, to retain it in my posses- 
sion. I was received, on my return from this visit, with 
uncommon pleasure; and some time after, my kind patron, 
taking me into his private apartment, thus addressed me : 
c I need not, my dear, inform you, that you have many 
enemies, and 1 regret to say, that those enemies are 
among my nearest relatives; but, continuing in the paths 
of rectitude, you will be beyond the reach of their most 
malignant calumnies. Soon after you left home the other 
day, the clergyman, who has recently become the hus- 
band of my neice, called upon me, requesting a private 
audience; and when retired into this room, he observed, 
that he conceived himself in duty bound to apprize me, 
that I was not sufficiently acquainted with the character 
of the person I had adopted; that he was not honest; that 
he had obtained money from me, to which he had no 
right. 6 You gave him, sir, as you believed, some pieces 
of silver, but upon examination they proved to be guineas; 
this fact I can prove; and if he could thus act, what may 
he not do? 5 I told this officious gentleman, that I had 
really intended to give you gold; but that you, conceiving 
I had made a mistake, forbore to appropriate the money, 
and speedily returned home, for the purpose of making 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



the communication. Our clergyman departed, and you 
will easily conceive, not a little humbled. I mention this 
circumstance to you, my son, to put }^ou upon your guard. 
It is my wish, that, in future you should not be so com- 
municative.' This little anecdote was exultingly repeat- 
ed to me by the good lady, and her daughters, who never 
failed triumphantly to report every little occurrence, which 
they believed would contribute either to my pleasure or 
my reputation. 

My establishment in this family rendered me an object 
of envy, even among some of my religious connexions. 
Objections were raised against my supposed erroneous 
sentiments; I was more than suspected of retaining my 
father's Calvinistic doctrines. Mr. Wesley received in- 
formation against me. He set a watch over me; thus 
fixing upon me the evil eye of suspicion.* A maiden 
sister, considerably advanced in years, became a depend- 
ent resident in the family of her brother. Her character 
was marked by duplicity, and she delighted in mischief. 
The tales she propagated were as various, as the parties 
which listened to her narrations; and all her communica- 
tions were made under the strict seal of secrecy. Young 
and unsuspecting, I found it difficult to encounter enemies 
of such opposite descriptions. I had some friends, of 
whose affection I doubted not; with these friends I passed 
much time, and I communicated to them every thing, and 
they, in their turn, communicated every thing to me; 
while many circumstances, thus confided, were, to my 
great astonishment, in circulation ! My situation became 
uneasy to me: I was fond of being in company abroad j 
this was very disagreeable to my friends at home; they 
expected in me a friend and companion, who would, by 
reading and conversation, give to their fireside new 
charms; and both parents, and daughters, were mortified 
and disappointed. Mr. Little expressed his disapproba- 
tion of my frequent absences. I was hurt, Mrs. Little 
shed tears, and entreated me to change my conduct 
c You have, 5 said she, £ in this wide world no such friends 

* It must ever be the cause of grief and mortification to the really 
liberal christian, to find in the conduct of professors that want of 
charity which characterized, in this case, that of Mr. Wesley. 
Though himself in a situation by no means enviable ; looked upon by 
many as an enemy of the truth, he nevertheless adopted those mea- 
sures which were calculated to prevent inquiry, and destroy that lib- 
erty of conscience for which he himself contended. Well would it 
have been for the world, and especially for the cause of Christ, had 
this been the last instance of the kind* Ed. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



53 



as we are disposed to prove ourselves; you will be abun- 
dantly more happy at home, than you can be abroad 
You should supply to us the place of our deceased child- 
ren : we expect consolation from your society. You are 
greatly beloved in this house; your enemies are not under 
this roof. For God's sake, if you have any regard for us, 
if you have any regard for any of your friends, if you 
would secure your own happiness, or the happiness of 
our mother, do not thus conduct. 5 Thus, with many en- 
treaties, did this dear, affectionate lady, endeavor to ar- 
rest my wanderings; and, while attending to her friendly 
lectures, my best resolutions were in full force, and I de- 
termined never to offend again. But going out to meet- 
ing, one and another of my religious connexions would 
take me by the arm; I could not avoid engagements; and 
w r hen I returned home, every individual of the family, 
Miss Little excepted, had frequently retired to rest. This 
good girl waited to apprize me of her father's displeasure. 
Much did she expostulate; and her expostulations were 
not always unmingled with tea:*s, My mother was rend- 
ered extremely wretched : I saw the gathering storm, but 
I had not sufficient fortitude to abide its ravages. My 
enemies derived consolation from my indiscretion, and 
my infelicities daily augmented. Whenever I was cen- 
sured, I was rendered more abundantly unhappy; and I 
formed a serious resolution to quit both the family of Mr. 
Little, and the country, and to seek an asylum in my na- 
tive place — England. For many days I continued obdu- 
rate, no remonstrances could influence me; I must abso- 
lutely commence a traveller — I must go to England. I 
had no object, yet I must depart for England — I could not 
tell why, indeed. It was believed, I was distracted. 
What, relinquish fortune, and such connexions, and such 
a prospect? — for it was generally believed, that I was to 
be united in marriage to Miss Little. Nay, her father 
was informed, by his kindred, that I was absolutely clan- 
destinely seeking to gain the affections of the young lady; 
and that they believed I was already in possession of her 
heart. But Mr. Little gave no credit to this report; he 
knew, that my evenings were passed abroad, and that 
this was the only source of dissatisfaction. It happened,, 
however, one evening, when I had been out late, and he, 
according to custom, retired to rest, I found, on my return 
home, Miss Little waiting in the parlor, for the purpose 
of making a communication, which she conceived would 
be of consequence to me. We sat some time in a con- 
versation, by which we were mutually interested; she 



54 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



made known to me the invidious remarks of her uncles* 
and aunts, and their displeasure at her, for not uniting 
with them in their sentiments; she dwelt upon the grief, 
which my inattention to the wishes of her parents occa- 
sioned them; and, upon this part of her subject, she be- 
came affected even to tears. I also was greatly affected, 
and for the first time in my life, taking her hand, I im- 
pressed upon it a kiss of fraternal affection; when to our 
great astonishment, her father entered the apartment. 
Had we seen a spectre, we could not have been more ap- 
palled. He stood for some moments speechless, until 
fixing his eyes indignantly on my face, which was cer- 
tainly covered with confusion, in a very pointed and sig- 
nificant manner, he said, 'So, sir!' and, taking his 
daughter by the hand, he conducted her from the parlor, 
leaving me to my own reflections. Words are inadequate 
to a description of my agonies, during the residue of that 
night. An idea of Miss Little, in any other character 
than that of a very dear sister, had never crossed my 
mind; yet suspicion was now furnished with a weapon 
against me, which would abundantly enforce the reports 
retailed to Mr. Little, by his kindred. I have often won- 
dered, that, at an age so susceptible of impressions, I did 
not become more warmly attached to Miss Little: she 
was a most lovely and amiable young woman; and she 
certainly gave me every reason which a modest, delicate, 
and sensible female could give, to believe she was not 
absolutely disinclined to listen to a tale of love. My 
apathy can only be accounted for, by a recurrence to an 
unquestionable fact; my heart was wholly engrossed 
by my religious connexions. I passed this memorable 
night in my chamber, without entering my bed. I de- 
scended the stairs in the morning, with the feelings of a 
malefactor: I dreaded the sight of every one in the house. 
Mr. Little saw me, but spake not to me; Mrs. Little ad- 
dressed me in the language of kindness; their daughter 
was not present, and I am persuaded she was not reduced 
to the necessity of feigning indisposition, as a pretence 
for absence. After breakfast, Mrs. Little in a whisper, 
directed me to retire into the back parlor, where she 
would speedily j^in me. With trembling dread I obeyed; 
she soon appeared, the shutters were closed, just light 
enough to see her, and be seen by her; I saw she had 
been in tears; she was a most kind-hearted lady. I could 
not speak; she commanded me to be seated: I drew a 
chair for her, and another for myself; she sat down, and 
I seated myself by her. After a pause, she began : c Tell 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



55 



me, I conjure you, tell me, what I ought to understand 
by the appearances of this morning? answer honestly the 
questions I shall put to you: but 1 know your answers 
will be literally true. My poor girl is very much dis- 
tressed; her father is very reserved, and very sad; he 
will make no reply to my inquiries, and my child is also 
silent. Tell me, I repeat, what is the matter? ' I came 
home late last night, madam; no one was up but Miss 
Little, who, like an affectionate sister, informed me she 
had something to communicate to me, with which I 
ought to be acquainted: I listened to her, till I became 
greatly affected with what I heard, and, deeply sensible 
of her goodness, we were mingling our tears, when thus 
thrown off my guard, I regret to say, that I am apprehen- 
sive I committed an unpardonable offence; I am mortified 
while I confess to you, my dear madam, that I had the 
boldness to press to my lips the dear hand, which seemed 
extended to rescue me from indiscretion; but indeed, my 
dear lady, it was the first time I ever dared to take so 
great a liberty, and I would give the world I had not then 
been guilty of so much temerity. At the moment Mr. 
Little entered, I felt as if I should have sunk under his 
indignant glance; Miss Little was greatly discomposed, 
while her father, with a voice rendered tremulous by an- 
ger, significantly said — c So, sir ! ' — and conducted his 
daughter out of the room. This, my dear lady, is the 
whole I know of the matter; I fear, Miss Little will never 
forgive me, for creating her so much distress: I had in- 
finitely rather be dead, than alive; I dread the eye of Mr. 
Little, and it is my opinion, I ought immediately to quit 
your hospitable mansion. c Alas! my dear child, I know 
not what to say; you believe you ought to quit us! 
Would to God you had never thus thought. This per- 
suasion is the source of all our unhappiness. How often 
have I told you, that no enemy could ever injure you, if 
your own conduct was uniformly correct. You hive 
deeply wounded a heart that loves you. I promised my- 
self, that you would become a large addition to our do- 
mestic felicity. But you are apprehensive you have of- 
fended beyond forgiveness ! Alas ! my daughter is more 
distressed for you, than for herself; you know not how 
much she has suffered on your account; you know not 
how much we all suffer ! Why, my dear child, will you 
thus afflict your best friends? 5 I am, my dear madam, 
grieved to have been the source of so much distress to 
persons so dear to me; but I shall shortly be out of the 
way of offending any one. ( What do you mean?' To 



56 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



quit this house, to quit this country. The dear lady 
threw her maternal arms around me, and with flowing 
tears interrogated: c Is it thus you will avoid offending 
us? Ah, my dear child, how little do you know of us, 
or of yourself. For God's sake, let me persuade you not 
to take so rash a step! Where would you go, what 
would you do? Would you leave a home, an envied 
home, and thus, while you afflicted your dearest friends, 
gratify your malignant foes ? 5 But, my dear madam, it is 
impossible I can continue under this roof. Mr. Little 
will not restore me his confidence : my felicity in this 
family is fled, forever fled. c You are mistaken, your 
happiness rests entirely with yourself; be but uniformly 
discreet, be but the companion we expected, when we 
adopted you, and all will yet be well. 5 But, madam, the 
eye and ear of Mr. Little will now be open against me, 
suspicion will be on the alert, and he will accept the tales 
of my enemies, as testimonies of sacred writ. ( Believe 
it not; think no more of this untoward business; you 
have but one enemy who can essentially injure you, and 
that enemy is yourself. I will be responsible for my fami- 
ly; you shall not be molested in this house, only convince 
us, that you love us; do but prove, that you are more at- 
tached to us, than to any other individuals, and we are 
satisfied. Do but reflect, how delightfully we might pass 
our time together. The business of the day closed, and 
we assembled in the parlor: you with your book, we 
your admiring audience, until we are summoned to sup- 
per; then, after you have closed our serene day by an ap- 
propriate, and affecting address to the God who created, 
and who has hitherto preserved us, we retire to an early 
pillow, soothed, and gratified, our sleep cannot but be re- 
freshing. Why, what a paradise would our abode be- 
come. But, my child, when you pass every evening 
abroad, you know not what a melancholy group you ren- 
der us. We are dumb, our countenances are sad; our 
silence is sometimes broken by Mr. Little, who ques- 
tions in anger, c Where is our young gentleman to-night? 
any society but ours ! ' Then follows a heavy sigh : 6 Well, 
let us go to bed, it will be late before he returns; but 
this will never do, 3 c We dare not open our lips, but my 
girls mingle their tears with mine. 5 Greatly moved by 
these observations, I sincerely repented of my past con- 
duct; and I determined I would, in all things, conform 
myself to the wishes of my parental friends. I beheld 
the family picture presented before me, by the dear lady; 
I beheld it with rapture, and I decisively said: yes, in- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



57 



deed, my future evenings shall all be devoted to a family 
so charming, and thus will my days be passed in peace. 
I promised the dear lady, solemnly I promised, that I 
would be all she wished; and I communicated to her 
bosom inexpressible delight. I left her in tears, but they 
were tears of rapture: I retired to my chamber; I threw 
myself upon my knees, I supplicated pardon of my heaven- 
ly Father, and, with a devout heart, I implored his sup- 
porting aid. A petition to my Creator always possessed 
the potent power of refreshing my soul; I was greatly re- 
freshed, and I looked forward with renewed complacency. 
In a few hours, I was summoned to dinner; at the door 
of the dining-room, I was met by Mr. Little; no cloud 
rested upon his countenance; I entered the dining-room, 
where were seated my charming, my faithful friends; 
the mother and her daughters; their countenances were 
animated, but their eyes bore testimony to their previous 
agitation: our interview, and hour of dining, were highly 
gratifying. It is true, many words were not uttered, but 
there is, in the expressive eye and other intelligent fea- 
tures of a fine countenance, a fascination which dwelleth 
not in words. Soon after dinner my little friend, the 
youngest daughter of my patron, visited me in my cham- 
ber, and bestowed upon me many caresses. 

Halcyon days and months now revolved; I fondly fan- 
cied I had surmounted every difficulty, and I anticipated 
a succession of delightful enjoyments; yet again I expe- 
rienced the satiety, consequent upon one unvaried routine. 
He, who had appointed me for a life of wandering, 
gave me a disposition which relucted at the constant 
recurrence of the same scene; I ventured to pass one 
evening abroad; another, and another succeeded. I was 
severely reflected upon, and I felt it keenly; conscious 
of meriting reproach, I was the more deeply wounded. 
I had been recently conversant with a young preacher 
from England; my imagination was fired; the world 
could not have longer detained me; I condemned my- 
self for wasting so much time; my heart, my soul was 
in England, in London. Let the world bestow its cen- 
sures, London was the place, it contained everything de 
lightful; I was on tiptoe to be gone; if I was not ap- 
proved by the family, so much the better, there would 
be less ingratitude in quitting it. My dear maternal 
friend once more sought, and obtained a private inter- 
view; this I wished to avoid; she saw my reluctance, 
and was convinced she should not succeed. She re- 
proached me : this, though painful, I could, bear better 



58 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



than her tenderness. c Then you will leave us,' said the dear 
lady. I am determined. 'You will repent it, sir: you 
will return with sorrow, and with shame; when, possibly, 
you may not find these hospitable doors open to receive 
you. 3 Never, never, I will die first. She paused, she 
raised her hands to heaven, she looked — merciful God, 
I see her now before me: the impression of her vary- 
ing countenance was unutterable; tears coursed each 
other down her pallid cheeks. Pausing for a few mo- 
ments, she said: 'Poor unhappy youth, you know not 
what you are about, where you are going, and what you 
are doomed to suffer. Here, then, ends all my pleas- 
ing prospects; now indeed I have lost my sons; poor Anna, 
she has now, in truth, no brother. Go, unhappy youth, 
go, the sooner you depart, the better; I do not wish to 
see you again. 5 She left me, nor will I attempt a de- 
scription of my sensations. I retired to my chamber, 
my chamber now no more; I wept, I audibly sobbed. In 
imagination I beheld the beloved friend, by whom it was 
once occupied; he seemed to upbraid me for my conduct; 
how torturing were the pangs I suffered. Upon the eve- 
ning of this sad day, my cherub friend entered the cham- 
ber, and for the last time, during my abode therein; pret- 
ty soul, she threw her arms around my neck, my face was 
wet with her tears : she told me, that her sister was very, 
very sad ! On what occasion, my love ? c Why, papa is 
very, very angry with you : and she says, you are going 
away to-morrow, she knows not where, and that she 
shall never see you again; and she walks about her cham- 
ber, and wrings her hands, O ! dear, O ! dear, I never 
saw her so much distressed before !' This was a truly 
affecting night, but it was the last I passed under that 
roof; I was not summoned to breakfast: a servant came 
to ask, if I would breakfast in my chamber, there could 
be no doubt of my negative. I saw by the countenance 
of this domestic, that I was fallen. About twelve o'clock, 
I received a message from Mr. Little, he was alone; I 
must attend him. My sufferings were great. To meet 
his eye was abundantly worse than death: I endeavor- 
ed to avoid it. Sometime elapsed before he spoke; he 
repeatedly attempted to speak, but mingling grief and 
rage arrested his utterance. At last he said: c Well, sir, 
you are going to commence your travels ?' This, with 
the manner in which it was spoken, relieved me. It was 
at that moment my choice to cherish resentment, rather 
than regret. I am going to England, sir. c You are; 
well, and what are you going to do there? But this is 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



59 



no business of mine; yet, I suppose it must be my busi- 
ness to know, how you are to get there; have you any 
money, sir? 5 No sir. 6 Hold your hat, sir. 5 I did so, 
and he threw into it as much gold as he pleased, and, 
as I then believed, as much as would support me, if I 
should reach the extreme age allotted to man. c Have 
you enough, sir? 5 Yes, sir, quite enough, and God for- 
ever bless you. £ Do you hear, sir, leave behind you 
my son's fowling-piece, and here ends my air-built cas- 
tle; 5 and with a flushed countenance, and a tearful eye, 
he left me, nor did I ever more cross the threshold of 
his door. I turned my back upon this once delightful 
home, with mingling emotions of sorrow, mortification, 
regret, and anger; all combining to produce unutterable 
anguish. My frame trembled, as I turned from the door; 
a dullness pervaded my heart; sickness seized my stomach, 
and I had just sufficient presence of mind to turn the 
contents of my hat into my pocket-handkerchief, when 
I sunk down upon the steps of the first door in my way. 
I was seen, and noticed by the people of the house, who 
conveyed me into their dwelling, and, when they had 
recovered me, questioned me respecting the cause of 
my indisposition. I related, with my usual frankness, 
every particular, and in a short time, the story circulat- 
ed, and with all the variations commonly attached to 
interesting articles of intelligence. I was soon sufficient- 
ly restored to reach the residence of my mother; where 
a new scene of sorrow awaited me. The poor sufferer 
was- beyond measure astonished at the step I had so 
rashly taken, and her distress was unutterable: she had 
promised herself a long series of enjoyments, from the 
happy arrangements made for me; and I suspect she con- 
templated, at no very distant period, a union between 
Miss Little, and myself; and her consequent agony, when 
she learned, that I had not only abandoned my home 3 
and those nattering prospects, but that in consequence 
of my fixed determination to repair to England, she 
was to lose me, perhaps forever; the torture of her mind 
was, as I said, beyond the reach of language : but neither 
her tears nor entreaties, strongly enforced by those of 
my brothers and sisters, could for a single moment shake 
my resolution. Whatever barriers might oppose my 
wandering steps, to England I must depart; I saw, or 
seemed to see, the sacred shade of my father, first re- 
proaching me, and then soothing me to a compliance 
with the wishes of his mourning family; and, by the 
anguish of my feelings, my soul was harrowed up : yet 



60 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



still, obdurate as I was, I continued inflexible. I could 
not endure to see, or be seen, in the vicinity of the abode 
which I had quitted ; and I made immediate preparations 
for my departure. I tendered to my disconsolate mother, 
the money I received from Mr. Little, not a penny of 
which she would accept : c No, my beloved child, if you 
must launch out upon the wide ocean, into a world of 
which you know but little, you will find this sum, large 
as it is, far short of your exigences. Through your filial 
exertions, I am established in a dwelling, far beyond my 
most sanguine expectations, or even wishes ; and, from 
your well-timed efforts, I derive many other advantages; 
and if my God is about to deprive me of my son, I 
doubt not, His goodness and mercy ^ which have hither- 
to followed me, will still be manifest, both in my provi- 
sion, and preservation; and in that of my helpless child- 
ren. 5 My heart seemed ready to burst; conscience whis- 
pered, I was acting wrong, very wrong; yet even this 
conviction could not induce a relinquishment of my plan; 
an irresistible impulse seemed hurrying me on. Many 
instances, striking instances, in my long and wearisome 
life, combine to prove, that the way of man is not in him- 
self; I at least, have experienced the truth of this sacred 
testimony. As the time of my departure drew near, my 
feelings were still more keen. My mother, my brothers, 
my sisters, my friends, renewed their tears and entreaties; 
I could not stem a torrent so mighty, and I determined I 
would abide with them. But it was the determination 
of the moment, extorted by the mournful supplications 
of all who were dear to me; and when they ceased to 
urge, I resumed my former resolution; and my mother, 
from early life devoutly religious mildly resigned her- 
self to an event which she considered inevitable. c 1 
see, 5 said she, 6 supplications are ineffectual; now I am 
indeed a widow ! 5 Starting at the desolate term [widow], 
so mournfully uttered, I hastened to my chamber, and 

Frostrating myself before the throne of Almighty God, 
seemed as if I were struggling with the agonies of dis- 
solving nature. I would infinitely have preferred death, 
to a separation so exquisitely torturing, I besought the 
God of my father to have compassion upon me, never 
to leave nor forsake me; and while thus humbly, and 
faithfully soliciting the Father of my spirit, renewed af- 
fiance grew in my bosom, and a voice seemed to say, 
* Go, and lo I am with you always. 5 Calmly reposing 
upon this assurance, I retired to rest; I quitted my pil- 
low on the succeeding morning, wonderfully refreshed. 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



61 



It was on that morning, that I met, for the last time, in 
the place of rny dear, confiding father, his disconsolate 
family: it was indeed a time of prayer. My heart ad- 
dressed the Father of mercies; I confessed, with great 
sincerity, my manifold errors; and I petitioned for a con- 
tinuance of unmerited kindness; I beseeched God to look 
with pity on a poor, destitute, helpless being, commenc- 
ing a journey through a world, with which he was un- 
acquainted. I entreated our God, in behalf of my suf- 
fering 'mother, and her helpless orphans, that He would 
constantly abide with them; and that he would vouch- 
safe an answer of peace to the many prayers, offered up 
in their behalf, by the husband and parent, now in glory 
My mother, was dumb; she saw the hand of God in 
this business, and she believed, that, as a sparrow fall- 
eth not to the ground Avithout our heavenly Father, I 
could not thus leave my pleasant home, and wander I 
knew not whither, except the Lord directed. And, em- 
bracing me, when on the eve of my departure, she af- 
fectingly said; c Go, my first-born, my ever beloved son; 
go, and may the God of your father be with you: Go, 
my darling son, on whom, while coming up from this 
wilderness, I fondly meant to lean; but God will not al- 
low me to lean on any but himself : Go thou, ever dear 
to my heart, and may our God be still near you, to 
preserve you from the evil, which is in the world. 
The prayers of your afflicted mother shall be contin- 
ually offered up in your behalf; and oh! my son, al- 
though we part, never perhaps to meet again in this 
world, yet let us meet every day before that throne^ 
whence we may expect grace to help in every time of 
need; let us be present in spirit, thus waiting upon the 
Lord. She then threw her fond maternal arms around me, 
once more pressing me to that dear, that faithful bosom 
whence I drew my early nourishment. With tears of 
fond affection she bedewed my face, and again drop- 
ping upon her knees, she once more lifted her stream- 
ing eyes to heaven in my behalf, when starting up, she 
hastened to the retirement of her chamber, and instantly 
closed the door. I stood like a statue; I could not move; I 
was almost petrified with sorrow. But from this state 
of stupefaction I was roused by the burst of sorrow, 
and loud lamentations of my sisters; I turned to the 
dear girls; I wept with them, and endeavored to give 
them that consolation which I did not myself possess 
But, hastening from this scene of sorrow, there was one 
pang which I calculated to escape. The youngest child, 



62 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



a beautiful little boy, who bore the name of my father 
— sweet cherub — I dreaded seeing him, and determined 
to spare myself this torture; but as I slowly, and pen- 
sively passed from the house, believing that what was 
worse than the bitterness of death had passed, this love- 
ly little fellow crossed my path. Sweet innocent, thou 
wert playful as the frisking lamb of the pasture; totally 
ignorant of the agonies, which wrung the heart of thy 
brother. He ran to me, clung around my knees, and 
looking wishfully in my face, affectingly questioned — 
* Where are you going? 5 I could not reply, 1 attempt- 
ed to move on, he took hold of my garment; c Let me 
go with you? shall not I go with you, urotherr, He 
uttered these questions, in a voice so plaintive, that 
he pierced my very soul. Surely, had it been possible, I 
should even then have relinquished my purpose. It 
was with difficulty that I extricated myself from this 
supplicating infant. I would have hastened forward, 
but my trembling limbs refused their office; I caught 
him in my arms, I pressed him to my aching bosom, and 
but for a burst of tears, which came seasonably to my 
relief, the struggles of my heart must have choked me. 
I left him — yes, I left this youngest of my father's child- 
ren, this dear object of my soul's affection, this infant 
charge, committed to my care, by an expiring father: 
I left him in the act of innocent supplication. I left 
him when I should, with a thousand times less of suf ■ 
fering, have quitted the clay-built tabernacle of my spirit; 
nor had I aught in prospect, to compensate the sorrows 
to which I voluntarily submitted ! ! Surely, there is a 
hand unseen, which governs the human being, and all 
his actions; I repeat, truly the way of man is not in him- 
self. Few sufferings could surpass those which, upon 
this occasion, I endured: My bitterest enemy could not 
have censured me with more severity, than I censured 
myself, yet I passed on; no friend could urge my return 
with more energy, than did the emotions of my own 
afflicted heart, yet I passed on. True, I passed on 
slowly; a frame, enfeebled by mental agonies, is not 
moved without difficulty. I had sent my trunk on in the 
waggon, to the city of Cork, where I purposed to take 
passage for England; and with my staff in my hand, I 
passed on, my eyes fixed on the ground not wishing to en- 
counter any human eye: It was with much difficulty, I at- 
tained the summit of a steep acclivity, where, spent and 
weary, I sat me down. From this lofty eminence, in full 
perspective outspread before me, was the place from 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



63 



which I had departed; my eye eagerly ran over the whole 
scene. Upon a gentle ascent, directly opposite, em- 
bosomed in a thick grove of ash, sycamore, and fruit trees, 
appeared the lovely dwelling of my mother. Behind this 
eminence, still ascending, was outstretched that garden, 
in which, with great delight, I had so often labored: 
where 1 had planted herbs, fruits and flowers, in great 
variety : and where, as my departure was in the month 
of June, they all flourished in high perfection. It was 
only during the preceding year, that I had added to my 
stock a large number of the best fruit trees, in the full 
expectation of reaping the reward of my labors, through 
many successive seasons. In those tall trees, the cuckoo, 
the thrush, and the blackbird built their nests; and at 
early dawn, and at closing eve, I have hung enraptured 
upon their melodious notes. My swimming eye passed 
from the garden to the house; there sat my weeping, my 
supplicating mother, at that moment, probably, uniting 
with her deserted children in sending up to heaven pe- 
titions for my safety. I turned to the right; there tow- 
ered the stately mansion, I was bid to consider as my 
own; there dwelt the matron, who hoped I should have 
been unto her as a son, and who had cherished me as 
such; there dwelt the charming young lady, whose vir- 
tuous attachment might have constituted the solace of 
my existence. The tear of sorrow, the sigh of disappoint- 
ment, no doubt, bedewed their cheeks, and swelled their 
faithful bosoms : And oh ! I exclaimed, may the balm of 
peace, may the consolations of the Holy Spirit, be abun- 
dantly shed abroad in your hearts. 

As thus, from scene to scene, my eager eye with tear- 
ful haste had wandered, my heart reiterated its unuttera- 
ble agonies; and, as I considered my situation as resem- 
bling that of the father of mankind, when driven from 
the paradise, to which state of blessedness it was decreed 
he never was to return, I would gladly have laid me down 
and died : I would have given the world, had it been at 
my disposal, to have reinstated myself in the situation, 
and circumstances, I had so inconsiderately relinquished; 
but this was impossible, and this conviction — how terrible, 
I wept, I sobbed. Despair seemed taking up its residence 
in my bosom. I fled from the scene; again I turned; one 
more look; I wrung my hands in agony, and my heart 
spontaneously exclaimed: Dear, ever dear parent, once 
more farewell; dear, much loved sisters, brothers, and 
thou sweet innocent, thou smiling, thoughtless, and there- 
fore happy babe, once more farewell; and you dear sec- 



64 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ond parents, and thou sister of the friend of my soul, with 
the beauteous cherub, whose infantile caresses, while pour- 
ing into my ear the interesting tale, were as balm to my 
wounded spirit — farewell, Oh ! farewell forever ! and you, 
ye many kind, religious connexions, with whom I have of- 
ten wept, and prayed, and joyed, and sorrowed, once more 
I bid you adieu; adieu ye flowery walks, where 1 have 
spent so many happy hours; ye thick embowering shades, 
reared by these hands, ye health-restoring herbs, ye sweet 
delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, receive my last fare- 
well. Still I lingered — still I gazed around, and yet again, 
another look — His past, and I am gone forever. I turned 
from the view, and have never since beheld those charm- 
ing scenes. I wonder much my agitated spirits had not 
insured a fever; but God preserved me, and leading my 
mind to the consideration of scenes beyond the present 
state, I was enabled to proceed, until I beheld, in per- 
spective, the spires of the opulent city, which 1 was ap- 
proaching. The opening prospect, with the additional 
sound of a fine ring of bells from Shannon steeple, a 
church standing on an eminence upon the river Lee, the 
bells of which are heard at an immense distance, gave a 
new tone to my mind. I had many friends in the city of 
Cork, and I endeavored to derive consolation from their 
unquestioned attachment. I had frequently preached in 
this city, and I had reason to suppose my labors had been 
acceptable. In the city of Cork, my paternal grandmoth- 
er, with her daughter, my aunt Champion, and her child- 
ren, still lived. My society would be sought, and I should 
again be engaged in preaching; these considerations less- 
ened the weight of affliction, by which I had been sorely 
pressed. I arrived at the mansion of my grandmother 
some time before sunset, and I was very joyfully received; 
but when I had communicated my plan, the countenances 
both of my grandmother, and my aunt, decidedly evinced 
their displeasure; they censured me with severity, and I 
keenly felt their rebukes. I assured them, I came not to 
solicit aid; and rising from my chair, I bade them formal- 
ly adieu, quitting their presence, and their house. The 
eldest daughter of my aunt, a very beautiful young lady, 
and as good as beautiful, whose heart was formed for pity 
and for tenderness, followed me down stairs, and entreat- 
ed me to continue with them, but her well-designed in- 
terference was ineffectual. I had been severely censured, 
and I could not bear it; I could have borne it better, if it 
had been unmerited. I left my lovely cousin in tears, nor 
did I again see, or hear from any individual of the family, 



( 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



65 



until one evening after I had preached in the Methodist 
Church, my grandmother advanced, took my hand, and 
requested 1 would attend her home : I confess I was de- 
lighted with her condescension; for my mind had greatly 
suffered from the reflection, that I had given pain to the 
dear and respectable mother of my deceased father. 1 
accompanied her home, and we passed a happy evening 
together; both my grandmother, and my aunt, addressed 
me in strains the most soothing; they poured into my 
lacerated mind the oil and wine of consolation; they 
confessed themselves convinced, that the good hand of 
God was in my removal, ' You are, said the pious lady, 
/you are, my dear child, under the guidance of an Om- 
nipotent Power; God has designed you for himself; you 
are a chosen instrument to give light to your fellow menj 
you are, I perceive, ordained to turn many from darkness 
unto light, from the power of satan, unto God, and the 
Lord will be with you. The God of your father will 
bless you, and make your way prosperous before you j 
look no more, then, to what you have left behind, but 
look forward in faith, always remembering, that God's 
works of providence are his most holy, wise, and powerful, 
preserving and governing all his creatures, and all their 
actions. Do not, I say, reflect upon yourself; I confess, 
I was wrong in censuring you; God's way is in the great 
deep, we ought to acquiesce in all the dispensations of 
our Creator. You, my dear son, are as clay in his hand; 
God is as the potter, who will do with you as seemeth 
good in his sight. Who can resist his will? 5 Thus did 
this dear lady speak peace to a mind, that had not, for a 
long season, received such strong consolation. 

I was urged, whUe in the city of Cork, to relinquish my 
purpose of going to England. The Methodists solicited 
me to repair to Limerick, where a preacher was much 
wanted; but nothing could seduce my thoughts from my 
native island. I frequently mixed in company, where re- 
ligious disputes ran very high. The doctrine of election, 
and final perseverance were severely reprobated : but 
election, and final perseverance, were fundamentals in 
my creed, and were conceived by me, as the doctrines of 
God. Yet I was aware, that an attempt to defend prin- 
ciples, so obnoxious, would subject me to the censure, 
and ill treatment of religious enemies, and I had experi- 
enced, that religious enemies were the most to be dread- 
ed : Yet, as I could not be silent, and as I dared not dis- 
semble, I contented myself with observing, that I had 
been accustomed to hear my respectable father speak in 



66 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



favor of those doctrines. But although, in my public 
labors, I never asserted aught that could expose me to 
censure, yet I was more than suspected of Calvinism, and 
consequent resentments were enforced against me. My 
residence in the city of Cork was thus rendered unpleas- 
ant, and my impatience to embark for England was 
augmented. I was, however, obliged to continue two 
weeks longer, during which period, I endeavored to live 
as retired as possible, avoiding controversy, and devoting 
my time to my grandmother and a few select friends. It 
was during my protracted residence in this city, that the 
celebrated Mr. George Whitefield arrived there, upon a 
visit. Of Mr. Whitefield I had heard much, and 1 was 
delighted with an opportunity of seeing, hearing, and 
conversing with so great a man. He was the first Cal- 
vinistic Methodist I had ever heard, and he became very 
dear to me; I listened with transport. The principles 
early inculcated upon my mind were in full force, and for 
Mr. Whitefield I conceived a very strong passion. He 
appeared to me something more than human : I blushed, 
at the view of myself, as a preacher, after I had attended 
upon him; yet I had the temerity to preach in pulpits, 
which he had so well filled ! and I secretly resolved to 
enter into connexion with him, if I should be so happy as 
to meet him, after my arrival in London. I had many 
delightful opportunities in private circles with this gentle- 
man; he was a most entertaining companion. But, as 
Mr. Wesley marked him with a jealous eye, he dispatch- 
ed, by way of escort, two of his preachers, in whom he 
particularly confided, who diligently followed the great 
man, from place to place : he was of course, upon every 
occasion, closely watched; and his facetious observations, 
and frequent gaiety, were, by these-spies, severely censur- 
ed, as descriptive of unbecoming levity. In fact, every art 
was called into action, to prevent the affections of the 
people wandering from one reformer to another; yet, while 
gentlemen, in connexion with Mr. Wesley, were contin- 
ually upon the alert against Mr. Whitefield, he himself 
evinced not the smallest inclination for opposition, or even 
defence; he appeared perfectly content with the enjoy- 
ments of the day, rather prefering a state of independence, 
to an intimate connexion with any sect or party. His 
choice, at that time, was decidedly the life of an itinerant, 
and he then evidently shrunk from the cares, and embar- 
rassments, attached to the collecting, building, and re- 
pairing churches. And never, I believe, did any man in 
public life enjoy more: he was the admiration of the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAV* 



67 



many, and an object of the warmest affection in those 
social circles, in which it was his felicity to mingle. The 
pleasures of the table were highly zested by Mr. White- 
field, and it was the pride of his friends to procure for 
him every possible luxury. The pleasure I derived from 
this gentleman's preaching, from his society, and from 
the society of his friends, contributed to lessen the weight 
of melancholy, which depressed my spirits on my depar- 
ture from home. I recollect an evening, passed with him 
at the house of one of Mr. Wesley's preachers, who had 
wedded a beautiful young lady of family and fortune, only 

daughter of a Mrs. , who possessed a very large 

estate, kept her chariot, her city and her country house, 
and entertained much company; many persons were 
collected, upon this evening; I was charmed with every 
thing I saw, with eveiy thing I heard. I had long admir- 
ed the master of the house; his lady I had never before 
seen; she was the object of general adulation; her person 
was uncommonly elegant, and her face dazzlingly beauti- 
ful; she had received a useful, as well as a fashionable 
education, and she was mistress of all the polite accom- 
plishments. She had three lovely children, with minds 
as well cultivated, as their time of life would permit. I 
threw my eyes upon the happy, the highly favoured 
husband, the amiable wife, the fascinating children, the 
venerable lady, who gave being to this charming wife, 
mother, friend. I beheld the group with rapture; for 
envy, as I have elsewhere observed, was never an ingre- 
dient in my composition, and I hung with a sort of chast- 
ened pleasure, upon the anecdotes furnished by Mr. 
Whitefield; the whole scene was captivatingly entertain- 
ing, and highly interesting: I was ready to wish the night 
might endure forever. Alas ! it was but one night; I 
never after entered that house: Happy would it have 
been for me, if I had never seen it. How mysterious are 
the ways of heaven! this evening, upon which I was 
so highly gratified, was the remote cause of my suffering, 
many years afterwards, great and very serious inquie- 
tude. I left the house of my friend, Mr. Trinbath, ex- 
pecting to have seen him again and again; I left him an 
object of envy to many; but I never saw him more, nor 
did he, poor gentleman, long continue the object of envy 
to any one. 

This was the last night 1 spent in this city, in this 
country. The vessel in which I had engaged a passage 
to Bristol, was now ready for sailing; I had only time, 
upon the morning of the ensuing day, to bid a hasty adieu 



68 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY 



to my grandmother, and her family, with a few other 
friends; to receive their blessings, and to depart. I took 
my place in the vessel at the wharf, some of my friends 
accompanying me thither; I spoke to them with my eyes ? 
with my hands, my tongue refused utterance. 

The beauty of the surrounding scenes, in passing from 
the city to the cove of Cork, cannot perhaps be surpassed. 
A few miles from the city stands a fortress, then govern- 
ed by a half brother of my father. I beheld it with a hu- 
mid eye; but the vessel had a fair wind, and we passed 
it rapidly. I retired to the cabin; my too retentive mem- 
ory retraced the scenes I had witnessed, since first I 
reached Hibernia's hospitable shore; they were many, and 
to me interesting: reflection became extremely painful, 
yet it was impossible to avoid it; and while I was thus 
retrospecting, the vessel cut her way through the harbor; 
we had reached the cove, we were on the point of leaving 
the land. I jumped upon the deck, I threw my eyes over 
the country I was leaving, which contained all that was 
near and dear to me, either by the ties of blood or friend- 
ship; all, all were drawn up in order before me; it was 
another parting scene. Yet I cherished hope, I might 
again return. Alas! alas! this hope was delusive; it was 
an everlasting adieu. Dear country of guileless and 
courteous manners, of integrity, and generous hospitality, 
I bid you adieu; adieu ye verdant hills, ye fertile vallies, 
ye gurgling rills, which every where cross the path of the 
traveller; ye delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, ye syl- 
van scenes, for contemplation made — adieu perhaps for* 
ever. Here ends the various hopes and fears, which 
have swelled my bosom in a country celebrated for the 
salubrity of its air, the clearness of its waters, the richness 
of its pastures, and the hospitality of its inhabitants; 
where no poisonous reptile could ever yet procure suste- 
nance. 



LIFE OF REV JOHN MURRAY. 



69 



CHAPTER III. 



Arrival in England, and further Progress of the inexpe- 
rienced Traveller. 

Hail, native Isle, for deeds of worth renowned, 
By Statesmen, Patriots, Poets, Heroes crowned ; 
For thee, my friends, my weeping friends, I leave, 
To thy blest arms, thy wandering son receive. 

I now began anew era of my melancholy life. Losing 
sight of land, I again retired to my cabin: alas! ' busy 
thought was too busy for my peace. 5 Launched upon 
the wide ocean, I was speeding to a country, my native 
country indeed; but a country, in which I could boast 
neither relation, nor friend, not even a single acquaint- 
ance. I was quitting a country, in which I had both re- 
lations and friends, with many pleasant acquaintances: 
yet this consideration did not much depress me; for al- 
though my heart was pained, exquisitely pained, when 
I reflected on those I was leaving, yet I was in raptures 
at the thought of England. I promised myself every 
thing pleasing in England; yet, in my most visionary 
moments, I could not name a source, from which I could 
rationally expect establishment, or even temporary gratifi- 
cation. Several gentlemen were in the cabin-, who took 
kind notice of me; they asked me no questions, so I was 
not embarrassed; but they contributed to render my pas- 
sage agreeable, which, however, was very short; for the 
identical passage, which, when I accompanied my father, 
consumed full nine weeks, was now performed in three 
days; but, exempted from those fears, and that nausea, 
which sometimes afflict fresh-water sailors, I was rather 
pleased with the rapidity of our passage. We dropped 
anchor in Bristol channel; I was charmed with an op- 
portunity of going ashore at Pill, and once more greeting 
the good old lady, that had many years before, so tenderly 
compassionated me when I returned, as one from the 
dead, to my offended father. Alas! she was no more; 
this was a disappointment, but I was in England, and 
every thing I saw, swelled my throbbing bosom to rap- 
ture. I was determined on walking to Bristol, it was on- 
ly five miles, and through a most enchanting country. 
O . what transport of delight I felt, when, with the en- 



70 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



suing morning, I commenced my journey. The birds 
sweetly carolled, the flowers enamelled the meadows, the 
whole scene was paradisiacal. It was England. But 
where was I going? I knew not. How to be employed? 
I knew not; but I knew I was in England, and, after 
feasting my eyes and ears, I seated myself upon a verdant 
bank, where the hot wells, (so much celebrated as the 
resort of invalid votaries of fashion, who come here to 
kill time, and to protract a debilitated existence by the 
the use of the waters,) were in full view. Here I began 
seriously to reflect upon my situation, and to attend to 
various questions, proposed by a certain invisible, my in- 
ternal monitor, who thus introduced the inquiry. £ Well, 
here you are in England what are you to do ? 5 God only 
knows. £ Had you not better apply to Him for his direc- 
tion and protection? 5 Certainly, where has my mind 
wandered, that I have not thus done before ? The emo- 
tions of my heart were at this moment indescribable. 
When I last gazed upon these scenes, my prudent, vigi- 
lant father, was at my side, to guard me from evil; now 
I had no guide, no counsellor, no protector ! ( O yes,' 
said my monitor, c you have the Creator, the Father of 
your father, He will be your God, and your guide : He 
will be your protector, your counsellor, your preserver; 
He will provide for you, and, if you apply to Him, He 
will make your way plain before, you. 5 My heart, sof- 
tened and cheered by these consoling suggestions, instant- 
ly began its supplications; there I prayed, and there I 
remembered Jacob upon the field of Padan-aram; I com- 
mended myself to the care of the God of Abraham, of 
Isaac, and of Jacob, and I added to these names, the name 
of my own father. Thus, by unbosoming myself to the 
Author of my existence, was my spirit greatly refreshed. 
It is very true I wept, freely wept, but my tears were tears 
of luxury; and I went on my way rejoicing, in a hope which 
gave me, as it were, to tread air. I reached Bristol at 
early dinner: I entered a tavern, inquiring if I could be 
furnished with a dinner. They saw I was a stranger, 
and from Ireland. The master of the inn was from the 
same country; he soon discovered I was a Methodist, and 
being acquainted with those religionists, he invited them 
to visit me, and I was consequently introduced to many 
of the Methodists in that city. It mav be thought strange, 
that, as I had been so much engaged among the Methodists 
in Ireland, being one of their approved preachers, I did not 
take the steps necessary to introduce me among that class 
of people in England. But, besides the jealousy which 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



71 



had taken place in the minds of my religious brethren, on 
account of my attachment to the doctrine of election, 
which made me resolve to quit Mr Wesley's connexion, 
and unite myself with the adherents of Mr. Whitefield, I 
wished for liberty to act myself, without restraint. But 
on being introduced, I was soon engaged; attended their 
meetings, and private societies, and was admired and 
caressed, and consequently tarried longer than I had pro- 
posed, deriving, from every social interview, abundant 
consolation. Upon the evening previous to my depar- 
ture from Bristol, I was urged to visit a society a few 
miles from the city; it was a pleasant walk; several of 
both sexes were assembled, they were neat in person, and 
correct in manners, and they were all English. I was 
charmed, and, being in good spirits, I was thought excel- 
lent company; I was then a stranger. They were high- 
ly pleased; I was requested to pray; I did so, and we 
mingled our tears. I was solicited to continue among 
this people, but my wishes all pointed to London — and 
to London I must go. I parted with my new acquaint- 
ance with regret, for I was as much pleased with them, 
as they appeared to be with me. Being prevailed upon 
to tarry dinner the next day, I did not leave Bristol until 
the afternoon. I then departed alone, determining to 
proceed as far as Bath, and take the stage for London, 
upon the ensuing morning. As I passed over one of the 
most charming roads in England, and alone, I had not 
only time for reflection, but my reflections were pensive- 
ly pleasing: I was advancing towards the metropolis; 
hitherto I had experienced the goodness of God, and I 
indulged the most sanguine hopes. My heart was greatly 
elated; I beheld the surrounding scenes with rapture; I 
was not wearied by my walk, it was only sixteen miles 
from Bristol, to Bath; the fields stood thick with corn, the 
valleys, burdened with an uncommon load of hay, seemed 
to laugh and sing, and the birds, in their variety, were, 
as if hymning the praises of their Creator, while the set- 
ting sun heightened the grandeur, and gave the finishing 
touches to the scene. My feelings were indeed highly 
wrought. I proceeded near the margin of a beautiful 
river; two hay-makers were returning from their toil; I 
addressed them, and, in my accustomed manner, I ex- 
pressed my delight, and my gratitude. c These,' said I, 
in a strain of rapture, c These are thy glorious works, 
Parent of good; Almighty Father, thine this universal 
frame; these wonderous fair — surpassing wonder far — 
thyself how wonderous then ! ' Tears gushed in my eyes, 



72 



ilFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



as I thus expressed the transport of my soul. The men 
were astonished, yet they seemed pleased; I asked them 
the name of the river? They replied, c the Avon, sir.' 
Then, said I, it flows through the native place of Shaks- 
peare. Shakspeare, who is he? 5 A writer, I replied: 
wondering at myself for mentioning his name; but I 
thought of Shakspeare, and I have ever been accustomed 
to think loud; the thought was an addition to my plea- 
sures, and, from the abundance of the heart, the mouth 
speaketh. My companions could not fail of discovering, 
that 1 came from Ireland, yet they cast no reflections up- 
on me, as is the custom with low people, upon these oc- 
casions; they were rather disposed to treat me kindly. 
c I fancy, 5 said one of them, c you are a Methodist. I 
am, said I — I do not deny it. 

6 Then my Bess will be glad to see thee, I'll warrant me; 
wool thee come along with me ? Thee may go farther, 
and fare worse, I can tell thee that. 5 c Ay, ay, 5 said the 
other, c Thee had best go with my neighbor — 1 5 11 warrant 
thee good cheer. 5 I thanked this kind man, and my heart 
swelled with gratitude to that Being, in whose hands are 
the hearts of all his creatures, for thus meeting me on my 
en ; . nee into this strange city, with loving-kindness, and 
tender mercy. We walked on together, mutually delight- 
ed; I, with every thing I saw, and my companions with 
me, for my expressed satisfaction. We soon stopped at 
the door of a very neat house. This cannot, said my 
heart, be the dwelling of a hay-maker; it was, however, 
and opening the door, he said: c Here, Bess, I have 
brought thee home a young Methodist; I know thee wilt 
be glad to see him. 5 I was then, by this rough, good- 
hearted man, presented to his wife: c Thou must find out 
his name thyself. 5 I immediately told her my name, 
when, in a friendly manner, she requested me to be seat- 
ed. She was a very different character from her husband, 
her manners were even polished; she entered into friendly 
conversation with me, and we derived much satisfaction 
therefrom, when her husband entering, inquired in his 
rough manner, 6 What the plague, Bess, hast got no supper 
for thy guest? 5 This was a matter to which we had neither 
of us recurred. The good man, however, was speedily 
obeyed, and an elegant repast was forthwith placed upon 
the table, of which I partook with appetite. We after- 
wards sang one of the Methodist hymns, and we united in 
solemn prayer; while my heart acknowledged all the 
fervor of devotion, even my host himself seemed affected 
and pleased, declaring he esteemed himself fortunate in 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



73 



meeting me. I was introduced to a handsome lodging 
room, and a good bed, but the fulness of my grateful 
heart would not, for some time, allow me to close my 
eyes; at length I sunk into the most refreshing slumbers, 
and I arose the next morning greatly exhilarated. I was 
received by my hospitable host, and hostess, with every 
mark of satisfaction; we breakfasted together, sang a 
hymn, and addressed the throne of grace, when the good 
man went forth to the labors of the field, requesting that 
I would not think of leaving them. In the course of the 
morning, the good lady informed me, that they had re- 
cently settled in Bath, a Mr. Tucker, who had been a 
preacher in Ireland. My heart leaped at this intelligence; 
of all the preachers, with whom I had ever associated, this 
man possessed the greatest share of my affection. His 
tender, innocent, childlike disposition, not only endeared 
him to me, but to all who were acquainted with his worth. 
My hostess was charmed to learn, that I was known to 
Mr. Tucker : I solicited her to direct me to his residence, 
but when she informed me, that, by the death of his fa- 
ther, he had recently come into possession of thirty 
thousand pounds sterling, I became apprehensive I should 
not be recognised. But I had occasion to reproach 
myself for suspicions, for no sooner was I conducted to 
his dwelling, than he caught me in his arms, and express- 
ed the highest satisfaction. Upon introducing me to his 
lady, he said: £ My dear, this young man is the eldest son 
of one of the best men I ever knew. No man ever pos- 
sessed a larger share of my venerating affection: I love 
this young person as his son, and I love him for himself; 
and when you, my dear, know him as I do, the goodness 
of your own heart will compel you to love him as I do.' 
How highly gratifying all this to me, at such a time, in 
such a place, and in the presence of the lady, whose guest 
I was! but I must be her guest no longer; this warm- 
hearted friend of my father, and of myself, would not 
allow me to leave his house nor the city for a long season: 
indeed, it was greatly against his will, that I left Bath 
when I did. I promised, I would call every day upon 
my worthy host and hostess, which promise I punctually 
performed. Mr. Tucker insisted upon my giving them 
a discourse in the church in which he officiated; for, 
although possessed of an independent fortune, he yet con- 
tinued to preach to the people. On Sunday, then, I 
preached in the city of Bath, to great acceptation. My 
host and hostess (the hospitable hay-maker and wife) 



7* 



14 



LIFE OF REV JOHN MURRAY. 



were present, and felicitated themselves that they had 
introduced a man, so much approved. 

My Reverend friend conducted me from place to place, 
showing me every thing curious in that opulent resort 
of the nobility. It was to this faithful friend that I com- 
municated, in confidence, the difficulties under which I 
labored, respecting my religious principles. I observed 
to him, that I could not with a good conscience, repro- 
bate doctrines, which, as I firmly believed originated 
with God, nor advocate sentiments diametrically oppo- 
site to what I considered as truth. On this account I 
could not cordially unite with Mr. Wesley, or his preach- 
ers. Mr. Tucker saw the force of my objections; nay, 
he felt them too, for he was at that instant nearly in the 
same predicament with myself. Yet we could not hit 
upon an expedient to continue in the connexion, and pre- 
serve our integrity. My anxiety however, to reach the 
capital compelled me to press forward; and my kind 
friend, convinced I was not to be prevailed upon further 
to delay my departure, engaged a place in the coach for 
me, discharging all the attendant expenses, and placing, 
besides, a handsome gratuity in my pocket. Of my 
first host and hostess I took a friendly leave, gratitude 
has stamped their images upon my bosom; I left them, 
and my other kind friends, in tears; we commended each 
other to the kind God, who, in his own way, careth for 
us. I have since been greatly astonished, indeed I was 
at the time surprised, at my thus hastening to quit a 
place, where I was furnished with every thing, my heart 
ought to have desired, when the prospect before me was 
at least uncertain; but I have been, all my days, a mys- 
tery to myself, nor is this mystery yet unravelled. I re- 
tired this night to bed, but did not close my eyes, until 
near the dawn of day yet my reflections upon my pil- 
low were charming; I clearly saw the good hand of God 
in all my movements; I was enchanted with every thing 
I had seen, and with the prospect of what I had still to 
see. O L how sweet in early life, are those sensations, 
which are the offspring of vigorous hope how great are 
the joys of expectation ! No one ever derived more high- 
wrought pleasures from hope, than myself. I quitted 
my bed just at che dawn of day, after a refreshing slum- 
ber; I had apprized the people at the stage house, the 
evening before,that I should walk on, and let the stage 
overtake me; this I did, and a most delightful walk I 
had. I met the Aurora, the rising sun, the waking song- 
sters of the hedges, the lowing tenants of the mead, the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



75 



lusty laborer, with his scythe, preparing to cut down the 
bending burden of the flowery meadow. The increas- 
ing beauty of the surrounding scenes, the fragrant scent 
of the new-mowed hay, all, all, were truly delightful; 
and thus enchanted, with spirits light as air, I passed 
on till I reached the Devizes, nineteen miles from Bath, 
where, after I had breakfasted, the coach overtook me, 
in which, I was soon seated, finding a ride, after walk- 
ing, more abundantly refreshing; we rolled over the finest 
road in the world, with such rapidity, that we reached Lon^ 
don before sunset. How much was my heart elated, as I 
passed over this charming country; how did it palpitate 
with pleasure, as I advanced toward the metropolis; yet still 
I had no fixed plan, nor knew I what I should do, or 
whither repair! True, I had some letters to deliver, but, 
in the hurry of my spirits, I had forgotten them; and on 
being set down at the stage house in London, I left my 
trunk without a single line of intimation to whom it be- 
longed, and wandered about the city, feasting my eyes 
with the variety, which it presented, c till twilight grey 
had in her sober livery, all things clad, 5 when I began to 
turn my thoughts towards a shelter for the night. I en- 
tered a tavern, requesting a supper, and a lodging, both 
of which were readily granted; I sat pensive, I was weary 
my spirits sunk, I ate little, and retiring to rny chamber, 
after securing the door, I fell on my knees, beseeching 
the Father of mercies to have compassion upon me. 1 
wept, wished myself at home, and my heart seemed to 
die within me, at the consideration that I could not re- 
turn, without fulfilling the predictions of my matron 
friend; 6 You will return, 5 said she, and, perhaps find 
this door shut against you. 5 Never, said I, never; I will 
die first. This was the most melancholy night I had 
passed, since I left the dwelling of my mother. I arose 
in the morning unrefreshed, I inquired where the stage 
put up; had forgotten; I told my host, I had left my 
trunk at the stage house. He soon found the place, but 
he despaired of ever obtaining my trunk; I recovered it, 
however, and a porter took it to my lodgings, there I be- 
lieved it safe, although I knew nothing of the people. 
I recollected where I had lived, when with my father in 
this city; thither 1 repaired; but although there were re- 
maining individuals who remembered him, no one recog- 
nised me. I was however kindly noticed, for his sake, 
and soon introduced to many, by whom I wasmucn caress- 
ed. From this I reaped no benefit; a few of my Metho- 
dist friends, whom I had known in Ireland, visited me^ 



76 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



but, seeing me in company which they did not approve, 
they stood aloof from me. In the judgment of Mr. Wes- 
ley, and his adherents, my principles were against me. 
They did not believe any man could be pious, who be- 
lieved the doctrine of predestination. I remember, 
some time after the death of my father, sitting with Mr. 
Wesley in the house of my mother, and conversing on 
this truly interesting subject; I ventured to remark, that 
there were some good men, who had given their suffrage 
in favor of the doctrine of Election, and I produced my 
father, as an instance, when, laying his hand upon my 
shoulder, with great earnestness, he said: c My dear lad, 
believe me, there never was a man in this world, who 
believed the doctrine of Calvin, but the language of his 
heart was, " I may live as I list." 5 It was, as I have be- 
fore observed, generally believed, that I inherited the 
principles of my father The Methodists in London 
were afraid of me, and I was afraid of them; we there- 
fore, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other; my 
wish to attach myself to Mr. Whitefield was still para- 
mount in my bosom, but Mr. Whitefield was not at home, 
and it was unfortunate for me that he was not. Every 
day I was more and more distinguished; but it was 
by those, whose neglect of me would have been a mercy : 
by their nominal kindness I was made to taste of plea- 
sures, to which I had before been a stranger, and those 
pleasures were eagerly zested. I became what is called 
very good company, and I resolved to see, and become 
acquainted with life; yet I determined, my knowledge 
of the town, and its pleasures, should not affect my stand- 
ing in the religious world. But I was miserably deceiv- 
ed; gradually, my former habits seemed to fade from my 
recollection. To my new connexions I gave, and re- 
ceived from them, what I then believed pleasure, without 
alloy. Of music, and dancing, I was very fond, and I 
delighted in convivial parties; Vauxhall, the playhouses, 
were charming: I had never known life before. It is 
true my secret Mentor sometimes embittered my enjoy- 
ments; the precepts, the example of my father, stared 
me in the face; the secret sigh of my bosom arose, as I 
mournfully reflected on what I had lost. But I had not 
sufficient resolution to retrace my steps; indeed I had lit- 
tle leisure. I was in a perpetual round of company; I 
was intpxicated with pleasure; I was invited into one 
society, and another, until there was hardly a society in 
London, of which I was not a member. How long this 
life of dissipation would have lasted, had not my re- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



71 



sources failed, I know not. I occasionally encountered 
one, and another, of my religious connexions, who se^» 
riously expostulated with me; but I generally extorted 
from them a laugh, which ultimately induced them to 
shun me. I had an interview with Mr. Barnstable, a 
preacher in Mr. Wesley's connexion, and questioning 
him respecting many, whom I had known, he informed 
me that Mr. Trinbath, at whose house I had passed so 
delightful an evening with Mr. Whitefield, in the city of 
Cork, was no more ! His beautiful wife had quitted her 
husband, her children, and her mother, and accompanied 
a private soldier to America ! ! ! Her doteing husband, 
thus cruelly deceived, lost first his reason, and afterwards 
his life. Mr. Barnstable inquired, what; had become of 
me so long; and, after severely admonishing me, he 
pronounced upon me an anathema, and quitted me. It 
will be supposed, I was not much pleased with him, and, 
assuredly. 1 was at variance with myself; and above allj 
I was grievously afflicted for the misfortunes, and death 
of the once happy Trinbath. It has often been a matter 
of astonishment to me, how, after such a religious edu- 
cation as I had received; after really, vitally entering in- 
to the spirit of the life, to which I was from infancy ha- 
bituated; after feelingly bearing my public testimony 
against the follies, and the dissipation of the many, I 
should so entirely renounce a life of serious piety, and 
embrace a life of frolic, a life of whim ! It is also won- 
derful, that, thus changed, I proceeded no further; that 
I was guilty of no flagrant vices; that I was drawn into 
no fatal snares. Many were the devices employed to 
entangle me; which devices I never deliberately sought 
to avoid. Doubtless, I was upheld by the good hand of 
God; for which sustaining power my full soul offers its 
grateful orisons. 

I pursued this inconsiderate, destructive course, upwards 
of a year, never permanently reflecting where I was, or 
how I should terminate my career. My money was near- 
ly exhausted: but this was beneath my consideration: 
and, as I have said, serious reflection was arrested by 
large circles of friends successively engaging me, either 
abroad, or at home, in town or in the country. Thus 
did my life exhibit a constant tissue of folly, and indis- 
cretion. But the time of my emancipation drew near; 
a demand, which I had barely sufficient to answer, was 
made upon me by my tailor; I started, and stood for some 
time motionless. The money, which I believed would 
never be expended, was already gone. I saw no method 



78 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



of recruiting my finances, and I stood appalled, when, 
at this distressing moment, a gay companion broke in 
upon me; he was on his way to the Club; there was 
to be grand doings: John Wilkes, esquire, was that 
night to become a member. I instantly forgot every thing 
of a gloomy nature, and went off as light, as a feathered 
inhabitant of the air. I never was fond of the pleasures 
of the bottle, of social pleasures no one more so; and, 
that I might enjoy society with an unbroken zest, I have 
frequently thrown the wine under the table, rejoicing that 
I thus preserved my reason. 

This period of my life had so much of variety, and 
yet so much of sameness, that a picture of a week would 
be nearly a complete exhibition of all my deviations. 
Suffice it to say, that I plunged into the vortex of plea- 
sure, greedily grasping at enjoyments, which both my 
habits and my circumstances should have taught me to 
shun. Upon this subject I do not love to dwell; if 
possible, I would erase k from my recollection; and 
yet, I derive abundant satisfaction, from the manifesta- 
tion of Divine Goodness, so strikingly exemplified, 
through the whole of my wanderings, in preserving me, 
by the strong arm of the Almighty, from numerous evils 
to which, in the society I frequented, and in the city 
where I resided, I was hourly exposed. But, as I said, 
necessity, imperious necessity, compelled me to pause; 
audit was, in truth, a blessed necessity. Had I been 
inclined to forget, that my whole stock was expended, 
the frequent calls made upon me for monies, which I 
could not pay, would have constituted a uniform, and 
impressive memento. My embarrassments were soon 
rumored abroad; and although I had many friends, who 
appeared to regard money as little as myself, who, de- 
claring they could not exist without me, insisted upon 
my being of their parties, yet a consciousness of depend- 
ence rendered me wretched, while indirect remarks, 
thrown out by some individuals, served to increase my 
wretchedness. Easter holy-days are, in England, days 
of conviviality. Parties of pleasure were every where 
forming. My connexions were hastening to my favor- 
ite retreat, Richmond; inclination led me to join them; 
but they either were not, or I suspected they were not, 
as usual, warm in their solicitations, and 1 declined a 
less importunate invitation. I, however, took a solitary 
walk, and I met reflection on the way. I had in the 
world but one half-penny, and a mendicant, asking alms, 
crossed my path; I gave him my half-penny, and walk- 



LIFE OF RfiV JOHN MURRAY 



79 



t?d on, till, passing out of the city 3 1 advanced into the 
fields. I began to feel exhausted; and, under the wide 
spreading shade of a tree, 1 sat me down, I continued, 
for some time, in a state of fixed despair, regardless of 
life, and every thing which it had to bestow. The eye 
of retrospection ran over past scenes; I remembered my 
father's house, and the plenty which, particularly at this 
season, reigned there. This was nearly the anniversary 
of his death; the mournful scene passed in review be- 
fore me; his paternal advice, his paternal prayers flash- 
ed upon my soul; the eye of my mind dwelt upon the 
family I had deserted. Oh ! could they now behold me ! 
Would they not be gratified? It hoped they would; their 
pity would have pained most exquisitely. Still my emo- 
tions were not of an ameliorating description; my heart was 
indurated, and, had 1 possessed the means, I should have 
proceeded in the path of destruction. At length I seemed 
awakened to a full sense of the horrors of my situation; my 
heart throbbed with anguish as I spontaneously exclaim- 
ed: Am I the son of such a man, the son of such pa- 
rents? am I that pious youth so much, and by so many 
admired ? am I the preacher, who at so early a period 
preached to others, drawing tears from the eyes of 
those who heard me? And is it thus my journey to 
England terminates? am I now alone, and unfriended, 
without an extricating hand to save me? Whither, ah I 
whither shall I go, and what step is now to be taken? At 
this moment, the voice of consolation vibrated upon my 
mental ear : 6 Imitate the prodigal of old, Arise, and g*o 
unto your Father; say, I have sinned against heaven, and 
in thy sight, I am no longer worthy to be called thy son: 
but beseech Him, nevertheless, to receive you into his 
service. 5 This counsel proceeding from a quarter, from 
which I had not for a long season heard, deeply affect- 
ed me, and bitterly did I weep, in the dread of that 
refusal, which, should I venture to follow the guidance 
of the monitor within I was, alas! but too certain of 
receiving. A thousand thoughts, like a swarm of in- 
sects, buzzed around me, but no thought gave me peace. 
How exquisite was the torture, which at this moment I 
suffered. But the approach of evening roused me to a 
convi tion of the necessity of moving; but whither should 
I go? that was the question. c Suppose, 5 said my invi- 
sible monitor, 'you go to the tabernacle? 5 and, burst- 
ing into a flood of tears; I said, Yes, I will present my- 
self among the multitude — yes, I will go; but how shall 
I meot the eye of any individual, who has formerly 



80 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



known me? how dare I stand among the worshippers of 
that God, whom I have so grossly offended? Yet I will 
go; and, with slow and mournful steps, I walked for- 
ward. The congregation had assembled. I entered, 
taking my stand under the gallery. I dared not raise 
my eyes; they were bathed in tears. Mr. Whitefield^ 
in his usual, energetic manner, addressed his audience; but. 
no sounds of consolation reached me. At last he said : ' But 
there may be, in some corner of this house a poor, de- 
sponding, despairing soul, who, having sinned, greatly 
sinned against God and against himself, may be afraid 
to lift toward Heaven his guilty eye; he may, at this 
moment, be suffering the dreadful consequences of his 
wandering from the sources of true happiness; and pos- 
sibly he may apprehend he shall never be permitted to 
return ! If there be any one of this description present, 
I have to inform such individual, that God is still his 
loving Father; that He says, return unto me, my poor, 
backsliding child, and I will heal your backslidings, and 
love you freely. What message shall I return my Mas- 
ter from you, my poor, afflicted, wandering, weeping 
brother? shall I say, you are suitably penetrated by his 
gracious invitation, and that you would come with 
weeping, and supplication; that you would fly with grat- 
itude, and prostrate yourself before Him, were you 
not so much injured by your wanderings; that you feel 
you are not able; and that you should blush to ask his 
assistance ? Is this your message ? poor, poor soul ! never 
fear, your gracious Father will shortly send you every 
needful aid. 5 All this was said to me; at least, to my 
wondering spirit, it thus appeared; and I seemed as if 
expiring, amid the mingling emotions of regret, apprehen^ 
sion, and hope. 

I left the tabernacle under these potent impressions, 
and, crossing Moorfields, I was overtaken by one of my 
old religious connexions, who, regarding me with won- 
der, said, 'Am I so happy to see you, one of the many 
who were at the tabernacle this evening? 3 My reply 
was indicative of the sorrow of my heart. He proceeded 
to make many remarks, until, in the moment of separa- 
tion, he said, c Well, my friend, perhaps, you will go, 
from hence, into company where you will forget all that 
you have this evening heard. 5 My heart was very full; 
and from its abundance I said, No, never will I again 
mingle in circles calculated to efface impressions, which 
I will cherish to the latest hour of my existence. Let 
tnese tears, these fast-falling tears, evince my sincerity. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



81 



My friend rejoiced in the prospect of my returning to the 
path, from which I had wandered; but he rejoiced with 
fear and trembling. He knew my connexions were nu- 
merous, and that my vivacity rendered me the life of 
those convivial circles, where I had so long figured. But 
the grace of God upheld me, and never, from that mo- 
ment, did I unite with those associates, from which I was 
at first separated by necessity. 

I was now an insulated being. I carefully avoided my 
former companions, and my religious connexions avoided 
me; thus I had now abundant leisure for reflection. 
Some time elapsed, before the change, which had taken 

Elace, reached the extremity of those circles, in which I 
ad moved. Many who heard, lent no credence to a re- 
port, which they believed without foundation. The 
greater number of those laughter-loving beings, who had 
attached themselves to me, never having imbibed any 
religious sentiments, had not learned the habits of my 
former life. Many individuals called upon me as usual, 
and found me a different man, from him, whom they had 
been accustomed to see. A few suspecting the cause, 
sought to relieve my mind, by warm and liberal assurances 
of never-failing friendship; and they generously tendered 
the unlimited use of their purses! I made my acknowledg- 
ments; but assured them, the whole world as a bribe, would 
be insufficient to lead me again into the paths of folly. I 
was not, I said, unhappy because I no longer possessed 
ability to run the career of error, certainly not; my infe- 
licity originated, from the consideration, that I had ever 
receded from the paths of peace. Some resented my re- 
marks as a tacit insult upon themselves; others ridiculed 
me, and pronounced me under the influence of a strong 
delirium; and two or three, who still loved me too well 
to separate themselves from me, were for a time, induced 
to reflect seriously upon their own situation: but these, 
also, shortly disappeared; and, of the numerous triflers, 
with whom I had so many months fluttered, not a single 
loiterer remained; and most devoutly did I render thanks 
to Almighty God, for extricating me from such associates 
I boarded in the house of a very lively, vivacious man; 
indeed his whole family might have been denominated 
sons and daughters of mirth: This fact had been their 
principal recommendation to me, but it now added to the 
burden of my mind. I made inquiry after another lodg- 
ing, but, on contemplating a removal, difficulties, to which 
I had not before recurred, stared me in the face. I was 
considerably in arrears to my host, and, as I must depart 



82 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



in a different state of mind, from that which I was in, 
when I became his lodger, and which had impressed him 
in my favor; I could not expect he would be very kindly 
disposed toward me. I was indebted to others, and my 
distresses seemed hourly to accumulate. Both present 
and future support were alike beyond my reach, and it 
appeared to me, I had attained the climax of misery. I 
closed my door, I prostrated myself before the God who 
had created me, beseeching him to have mercy upon me; 
again my sad, my sorrowing heart, revisited the home I 
had abandoned; stripped of its allurements, my mad pas- 
sion for travelling appeared in its native deformity; 
agonizing dread overtook me, and my terrified imagina- 
tion pointed out, and anticipated, a thousand horrors. 
Many devices were suggested to my forlorn mind, and 
death itself was presented as my last resort. But starting 
from an idea so impious, Let me, I exclaimed, at least 
avoid plunging into irremediable perdition. Thus I spent 
the day, and in the evening I attended the tabernacle. I 
considered myself, while there as the most destitute indi- 
vidual in the whole assembly. I generally occupied a 
remote corner, my arms were folded, my eyes cast down, 
and my tears flowing; indeed, my eyes were seldom dry, 
and my heart was always full; for, at this period of my 
life, I rarely tasted any thing like consolation. Coming 
out of the tabernacle, one evening, a serious young man 
thus accosted me : c Cheer up, thou weeping, sorrowing 
soul — be of good cheer, thy God will save thee.' I caught 
his hand; God bless you, my dear sir, whoever you are! 
but you do not know to whom you are speaking. 6 Oh 
yes, I am speaking to a sinner, like myself. No, no, I 
returned, the wide world does not contain so great a sin- 
ner as myself; for, in the face of an education, calculated 
to eradicate every evil propensity; and of precepts, and 
examples, drawn from our most holy religion, which 
ought to have rendered me a uniform servant of the 
Most High; I have mingled in circles, consisting of the 
idle, the dissipated, and the profane; I have run the 
career of folly, and the anguish of my soul is a conse- 
quence of my manifold offences. The kind-hearted 
young man strove to pour into my wounds the oil and 
wine of consolation. We walked together, quite through 
Moornelds; at his request, I promised to meet him at the 
tabernacle the ensuing evening, and I was greatly impa- 
tient for the appointed time. Passing Moorfields, agree- 
ably to my engagements, I beheld a large congregation 
assembled to hear one of Mr, Wesley's preachers : I tar- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



83 



ried until I saw the preacher mount the stage, but what 
were my emotions, when I recognised him of whom I 
was so fond, in the house of Mr. Little, and who first in- 
troduced me as a public speaker. I hastily withdrew 
from the place, terrified, lest his eye should meet mine; 
but my soul was tortured by the comparison of what I 
was, when I first saw him, with my present situation. 
I was this evening much affected; indeed, it was impossi- 
ble ibr any child of sorrow to attend upon Mr. White- 
field, without feelings of the most impressive nature. I 
looked around for my companion of the past evening, 
but I saw him not; and I was pained by the disappoint- 
ment. On my departing from the tabernacle, however, 
he again took my hand, assuring me, he was glad to see 
me, and repeating a verse of a hymn : ( We shali not al- 
ways make our moan, 5 &c. which hymn I had often sang, 
and of which I was very fond. I melted into tears; this 
man appeared to me as an angel of God, and most de- 
voutly did I bless the Father of my spirit, for sending me 
such a comforter. I was in haste to unbosom myself to 
him, to make him acquainted with the extent of my er- 
rors; but this was a subject, upon which he did not seem 
in haste to hear me. He, however, urged me to draw 
consolation from the promises of our God, which he pro- 
nounced all yea and amen, in the Redeemer: He also ex- 
pressed a wish to meet me, at the table of the Lord, upon 
the following Sunday: for this, my own heart ardently 
panted, and I engaged, if possible, to obtain a ticket of 
admittance. My concern for my very reprehensible ab- 
errations, as they affected my spiritual interests, so com- 
pletely occupied my mind, that I had little leisure for re- 
flection upon my pecuniary embarrassments, yet my cir- 
cumstances were truly deplorable. I was in debt, with- 
out the means of making payment, nor had I any pros- 
pect of future support. I disdained to ask charity, and 
the business, of which I had obtained a superficial knowl 
edge in Ireland, was not encouraged in London. The 
friend, whom I first saw at the tabernacle, had continued 
a vigilant observer of my conduct; he had frequently 
visited me, and my eyes convinced him I was no longer 
the gay, inconsiderate wanderer, but truly a man of sor- 
row. Compassionating my sufferings, he invited me to 
his pleasant home, and, in a voice of friendship, request- 
ed I would pour into his bosom all my griefs. I did so. 
and his resolution was instantly taken. To my great con- 
solation, he engaged to procure me, immediately, another 
lodging, to make my present landlord easy, and to pro- 



84 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



cure for me, if I was willing, the means of future sup- 
port; and this, without rendering me dependent, except 
upon my own regular efforts, and the Being, who had 
called me into existence. Let the feeling heart judge of 
the indescribable transports, which this conversation orig- 
inated in my soul. Gratitude swelled in my bosom; I 
experienced all its sweet enthusiasm; and hardly could I 
control my impatience, for the execution of a plan, in 
every view so desirable. The lodging was immediately 
obtained; it was at the house of an old lady, in Bishop- 
gate's street, where was appropriated solely to my use, 
a neat, and well furnished apartment. The succeeding 
morning, this benevolent gentleman attended me to my 
late lodging, when, inquiring the amount of my debt, I 
was answered, £ Not a penny. 5 I stood amazed. c No/ 
said my good-natured host, 6 not a penny. 5 But pray 
what is the matter, where have you been, where are you 
going ? ! dear, O ! dear, these abominable Methodists 
have spoiled as clever a fellow, as ever broke bread; I 
suppose you think we are not good enough for you, and 
so you wish to leave us. 5 I was greatly affected. Ex- 
cuse me sir; I do not believe myself a whit better than 
you; but, sir, 1 am afraid of myself. ' Ah! you have no 
occasion: I am sorry you are going, upon my soul I am. ; 
You ought to stay and convert me. 5 Ah! sir, it is God, 
who must convert both you, and me. We shed tears at 
parting: but our tears flowed from a different source. 
He wept, that he should no more be amused with the 
whim and frolic of a gay young man; I, that I had ever 
sojourned in his house. I was, however, suitably im- 
pressed by his kindness, although our intercourse from 
this moment entirely ceased. The following week, I 
obtained a situation, as one of the aids to an inspector of 
a broadcloth manufactory; I was glad to obtain employ- 
ment at any rate. Yet it is a fact, I was never designed 
for a man of business. Nor was I fully satisfied with my 
associates; they were not in my way, and they, therefore, 
made me a subject of ridicule; this, to weak minds, is 
perhaps a species of persecution, of all others the most 
difficult to endure. I certainly suffered much from it; 
but, if I could obtain no satisfaction with them, I had the 
more whenever I left them, which was upon the evening 
of every day, and the whole of Sunday. I was delighted 
by the consideration, that I was living by my own exer- 
tions, and in a way to discharge debts, which were a 
heavy burden upon my mind. I lived frugally, retrenching 
every superfluity, and uniformly denying myself all, but 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



85 



the absolute necessaries of life; and I had very soon the 
felicity of knowing, that I had no longer a creditor. This 
complete exoneration was followed by a newly revived 
and ecstatic hope, of being again admitted to my Father's 
house, from which, I once feared, I was eternally ex- 
cluded : And I deemed myself happy, beyond expression 
happy, upon comparing myself with those, among whom 
I was compelled to live; who were posting, without con- 
cern, in what I deemed the road to ruin, which I had, by 
divine favor, been mercifully drawn; my bosom swelled 
with the most delightful sensations, while I frequently 
exclaimed, Lord, why me? Why take me, and leave 
these poor, unfortunate beings to perish in a state of sin, 
and misery? But such was the sovereign will and plea- 
sure of my God; he would have mercy, on whom he 
would have mercy, and whom he would be hardened. 
Sometimes, indeed, my soul was sick with doubt and 
apprehension. When engaged in the work of self-exam- 
ination, one evil propensity, after another, which I had 
believed dead, seemed to revive in my bosom : I feared, 
that my faith was all fancy; and that the hope, which I 
encouraged, was the hope of the hypocrite, which would 
be as the giving up of the ghost. Upon these occasions, 
I experienced unutterable anguish, and my days and 
nights were, with very little intermission, devoted to sor- 
row. The distress, I so evidently suffered, endeared me 
to my new religious connexions; every one of whom en- 
deavored to administer consolation, encouraging me to 
cherish hope, from the consideration of my despair ! My 
life was now more active than it had ever been, and my 
connexions more numerous. I was much occupied by 
business, yet my hours of devotion were sacred; I rose at 
four o'clock, in summer and winter. My meals con- 
sumed but a small portion of time. The moments, thus 
passed by others, were, by me, devoted to private prayer. 
My evenings were passed at the tabernacle, and, when 
Mr. Whitefield preached, my soul was transported. I 
returned home exceedingly refreshed, and prostrated my- 
self at the footstool of my Maker, I acknowledged with 
gratitude the tender mercies of my Redeemer, who had 
graciously separated me from those, who were murdering 
their time, and their precious souls; and my thanksgiv- 
ings were reiterated to that God, who had mercifully res- 
cued me from enormities so prodigious. Thus rolled on 
the week, until Sunday; to me, indeed, a holy day, and 
one to which I looked forward with the most delightful 
anticipations. Upon this morning, I arose even earlier 



86 



LIF* OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



than usual; attending either at the tabernacle, or at the 
chapel, in Tottenham-court, at which places the commur 
nion was alternately given, every Sunday morning. 
Great numbers attended upon these occasions, who were 
not regular tabernacle worshippers; obtaining a ticket of 
admittance, they took their seats. It appeared to me, 
like a prelibation of heaven. The Elect of God, from 
every denomination, assembled round the table of the 
Lord; a word of consolation was always given, and an 
evangelical hymn most delightfully sung. These Sun- 
day mornings were, indeed, golden opportunities: my 
doubts were generally removed, and I cams home in rap- 
tures. It was in such a peacefully religious frame of 
miud as this, that I was passing from the tabernacle, on a 
fine summer's morning, deriving high satisfaction from the 
consideration, that I loved the brethren. I know, said I, 
internally, that I have passed from death unto life, be- 
cause I love the brethren. It is true, I felt a very strong 
affection for those, with whom I had communed in the 
tabernacle; but passing over Moorfields, 1 saw a crowd 
of people, collected under the shade of a large tree. I 
inquired of a passenger, what occasioned the assembling 
of such a multitude; and I was informed, one of James 
Kelly's preachers was disseminating his damnable doc- 
trines to the infatuated people ! My soul kindled with in- 
dignation; and, from the abundance of an heart, over- 
flowing with religious zeal, I could not forbear exclaim- 
ing: Merciful God I How is it, that thou wilt suffer this 
Demon thus to proceed? are not mankind naturally bad 
enough, but must these wretches be suffered to give pub- 
licity to tenets, so pernicious, so destructive ? thus, in the 
name of God, doing the work of the Devil.* At this 
period, I should have considered myself highly favored, 
to have been made an instrument, in the hand of God, 
for taking the life of a man whom I had never heard, nor 
even seen; and, in destroying him, I should have nothing 
doubted, that I had rendered essential service, both to 
the Creator and the created. I did not then know, how 

^ In this description of his feelings, the author has left on record 
that which ought to serve as a mild reproof to those who are prone to 
condemn, unheard, both the doctrine aud advocates of Universalism. 
It should have the effect to lead all ingenious inquirers to examine, 
with great care, and much faithfulness, their own hearts, to see 1 what 
manner of spirit they are of ; and should this be done, it would be 
asceriained, that opposition to the doctrine of impartial grace, arises 
not so much from the discovery of any thing bad in the sentiment it- 
self, as from that pride and haughtiness, which, alas ! are quite too 
prevalent in the world. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



87 



much I was leavened with the leaven of the Pharises; 
and that, notwithstanding my assurance of having passed 
from death unto life, in consequence of loving the breth- 
ren, this boasted love extended to none, but those of my 
own persuasion.* I always returned from the tabernacle, 
with my heart filled with religious zeal. The intermis- 
sion of public worship was always appropriated to pri- 
vate devotion; in a word, all my devotional habits were 
restored, and my Sundays were an exact transcript of 
those, which I had passed in the family of my father. 
The Sundays, upon which I took my seat at the commu- 
nion table, in the chapel, were more abundantly fatigue - 
ing. The chapel was some miles from my lodgings; but 
I never absented myself, either summer or winter, and I 
greatly exulted when I was the first, who appeared with- 
in its consecrated walls. The more I suffered in reach- 
ing this place, the more I enjoyed when there; and often, 
while passing the streets of London, in the midst of rain 
or snow, my heart has swelled with transport, in the 
thought, that I was going to Heaven by means of these 
difficulties, and trials; while the many, who were then 
sleeping, were suspended over the pit of destruction, into 
which they must one day fall, to rise again no more for- 
ever. And why, Oh ! why, I used to repeat, am I snatch- 
ed, as a brand from the burning; why am I, an offender 
against light, against precept, and example, made a bless- 
ed heir of Heaven, while far the greater part of my 
species are consigned to endless misery? There were a 
number of young people, of both sexes, who, having as- 
sembled from a great distance, could not return home 
after service, in season for breakfast. One of the society 
kept a house near the chapel, where individuals thus cir- 
cumstanced were accommodated.. There we often col- 
lected, and our opportunities were delightful. Being re- 
markable for a humble demeanor, I was, on this account, 
much noticed and caressed; and I rarely quitted the as- 
sembly without a heart overflowing with love, and grati- 
tude, toward God, and His dear children. I was not 
confined to any particular place of worship; I was accus- 
tomed to present myself, at the stated times, in various 
congregations; wherever I heard of a great man, I made 

* To the discredit of Christianity, its professors are, as our author 
was before his conversion, by far too much disposed to confine their 
love to the few with whom they associate. This spirit of the Pharisee, 
cannot be too strongly disapprobatedj for it stands direct in opposi- 
tion to the genius and spirit of that gospel which comprises a full ex- 
pression of the love of God for all mankind. Ed. 

8* 



S3 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

a point of attending upon his labors. Among the many 
places of public worship, to which I resorted, there was a 
Baptist meeting, where I obtained great satisfaction. 
The minister was a warm, animated preacher, and the 
people uncommonly serious. To this house many of the 
tabernacle adherents resorted; for, at this time, there was 
no service at that place, except in the morning, and eve- 
ning. In a vestry, attached to the Baptist meeting, many 
of the congregation met, before the commencement of 
divine service and some of them alternately sang and 
prayed. By those persons, I was received with great 
kindness; this affected me exceedingly; and perceiving 
that it did, they loved me yet more for the value I evi- 
dently set upon their affection, till at length, I became an 
object of general attention. United plans were laid to 
draw me out, and I had pressing invitations to their re- 
ligious societies, and afterwards to their houses. The 
minister distinguished me; solicited me to visit him; and 
delighted to speak peace to me, both publicly, and private- 
ly. I was entreated to pray in the society, which, as a 
timid, and unpatronized stranger, I had so recently 
entered! I complied, and every one seemed affect- 
ed; I myself was greatly moved, deeply penetrated 
by reflection, upon what I had been, and what I then was, 
and my soul was transported by the consideration, that I 
was re-admitted into the society of the people of God. 
My presence was now anxiously expected in the congre- 
gation, and at the houses of many individuals; I was 
marked by those, who attended at the tabernacle, and 
many other places of worship; and I was so much caress- 
ed, by serious people of sundry persuasions, that when I 
have been asked, what denomination I was of, I have re- 
plied, an independent Baptist, Methodist, Churchman. 
I hardly knew which of those I liked best, or loved most; 
and Mr. Whitefield, upon whom they all occasionally at- 
tended, strove, both by precept and example, to convince 
us, that a difference, respecting non-essentials, was utter- 
ly inconsistent with the Christian character. 

Among the many, who extended to me the hand of 
amity, was a merchant, who never appeared so happy, 
as when conversing with me; he received me into his 
house, and employed me in his counting room; here I 
fancied my circumstances improved, but I was deceived. 
This gentleman was a mere superficial professor of relig- 
ion, which, when I discovered, I determined to return to 
my former situation. I had paid all my debts; I was 
easy, and occasionally happy, and I allowed myself 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



89 



many little indulgencies, which, while a debtor, I should 
have believed criminal. 

The leaving my new patron gave me, however, some 
pain; he had a very high opinion of me, although I could 
not reciprocate his esteem. He was ambitious of obtain- 
ing a name in the Church, and, for this purpose, he con- 
templated the observance of morning and evening prayer 
in his family; but, not being an early riser, he was at a 
loss to know how to reconcile his devotions with his 
business. At last he said: c You, my friend, are accus- 
tomed to perform the honors of my table. If you prolong 
your grace at breakfast, it will answer for morning pray- 
er !' Greatly shocked, and completely disgusted my de- 
termination to quit him was confirmed. I was still very 
communicative, and, consequently, the reason of my 
departure was generally known; so that my once warm 
friend was, as may be supposed, converted into a bitter 
enemy. I was, however, rather commended than censur- 
ed, while the conduct of the man of business excited 
general contempt. This gratified me ! alas, the piety of 
this world is based on pride ! I now became as far as I 
was known, an object of attention in every place, where 
vital religion, as it was phrased, obtained its votaries. 
Mr. Romasne, M. Jones, and many other clergymen, 
distinguished me. Hints were thrown out respecting my 
once more coming forward as a public teacher; but 
against this I was determined. I was astonished, that I 
had ever dared to venture upon so responsible an assump- 
tion ! As the eternal well being of the many was supposed 
to rest with the preacher, an error in judgment would 
consequently be fatal to his hearers; and, as I had now 
learned that I was not perfect in knowledge, I could not 
be assured, I should not lead the people astray; in which 
tremendous event they' would, to all eternity, be imprecat- 
ing curses on my head. Considerations of such magni- 
tude were sufficient to seal my lips; but I was character- 
ized as a pattern of piety, and my experiences were 
greedily sought, by individuals of various denominations. 
There was a society, belonging to a Baptist meeting, 
near Good Man's fields, which met statedly at each other's 
houses once every week; this was the society, in which I 
was most admired, and to which, of course, I was the 
most attached. In this society there were individuals, 
wh >, like myself, were tabernacle worshippers, but 
who attended this meeting, when there was no service 
there. I had surrendered up my whole soul to those 
religious exercises, which the several societies, to 



00 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



which I had attached myself, demanded. My plan was 
to devote myself wholly to my God, to the advancement 
of my spiritual interest, to considerations pertaining to 
the kingdom of heaven. Wedded life, a family, these 
made no part of my plan; I was persuaded, I should pass 
my life in celibacy ; and, had monastic seclusion consisted 
with Protestantism, I should gladly have embraced its 
retirement, with its duties. In the society, collected near 
Good Man's fields, there was a young gentleman remark- 
able for the sanctity of his manners; we were strongly, 
and mutually attached to each other. Many, very many 
happy hours did we pass together. During the winter, 
we were constantly at the tabernacle before day. We 
narrated to each other our experiences; we prayed, we 
wept, we joyed, and sorrowed together; and, with un- 
feigned affection, we loved one another. I questioned 
him respecting his connexions, when he informed me, 
that his parents had died in his infancy; that he had been 
brought up by his grandfather, who was a very profligate 
old gentleman, and abhorred the very name of Whitefield! 
But, he added, that, through the mercy of God, he was 
not entirely alone. He had a sister with him in the 
family, reared also by his grand parent, who was a good, 
and gracious girl; that their nights were frequently de- 
voted to prayer; but that they dared not let their grand- 
father know they had ever been seen at the tabernacle, 
or in any of those societies, from which they derived their 
chief happiness. Indeed, he observed, his sister seldom 
ventured out; but he had made such representations of 
me, that she had desired him to let her know, when I 
should again meet the Baptist society, and she would 
make a point of being there; and, I request you, said he, 
my dear sir, to be at the society next Sunday evening, 
and she will most unquestionably be there. I cannot say, 
I had any curiosity respecting this young lady; but Sun- 
day night came, I was expected, and the great room was 
filled previous to my arrival. I entered, every one rose 
at my entrance, and I felt dignifiedly pious, seriously 
happy. My young friend approached, and told me, in a 
whisper, his sister would have been greatly disappointed, 
had any thing detained me that evening. On my entrance 
I had glanced at a young lady, extremely beautiful, who 
appeared attired by the hand of elegance; it was with 
difficulty I could take my eyes from her ! I was confound- 
ed, I changed my seat, that I might not behold her, and, 
when thus addressed by Mr. Neale, I responded by asking 
where his sister was seated, when he pointed to the 



LIFE GF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



91 



fascinating figure, who had so imposingly attracted my 
attention* 'That young lady, sir, is Miss Neale — my 
sister; she has long wished for an opportunity of seeing 
you; I am happy that she is now gratified. 5 An intro- 
duction was in course; I had much to say through the 
evening, and my friend declared I had never spoken bet- 
ter. 1 addressed the throne of grace; my own heart was 
softened, and the hearts of my audience were softened 
also. I returned home, but the beauteous image of the 
sister of my friend accompanied me ! I could not for a 
moment exclude the lovely intruder from my imagination. 
I was alarmed; I wept, I prayed, but every effort was 
fruitless; the more I strove to forget her, the more she 
was remembered. I was impatient to behold her again, 
yet I most devoutly wished we had never met. I was 
convinced my peace, my happiness were forever fled! 
This was truly astonishing; I had recently been so pos- 
itive, that the combined sex did not possess the power to 
engage my attention for a single moment. Some time 
elapsed, during which the captivating engrosser of my 
heart never relinquished, no, not for a single instant, that 
entire possession, which she had taken of my imagina- 
tion; when, after an evening lecture, while the congrega- 
tion were quitting the meeting-house, a lady, who kept a 
boarding-school for young ladies, requested I would pass 
the next evening at her house, as her young people were 
to collect their friends, and she wished some one to intro- 
duce religious conversation. I had no inclination to 
accept this invitation, and I accordingly made my excuses; 
but the good lady continued to press me, and added, I 
expect Miss Neale will be of the party. Of this impos- 
ing article of intelligence, I experienced the full force; 
but I endeavored to disguise my emotions; and, the 
request being once more repeated, I consented, and re- 
turned home, notwithstanding all my resolutions, trans- 
ported with the prospect of once more beholding the dear 
object of my admiration. That I was now become a real 
lover, there could be no doubt. I was early at the place 
appointed, and my enraptured heart danced with joy, 
when I once more beheld the triumphant fair one; I was 
happy to observe, that she regarded me with marked 
attention, but her predilection was rather for the Christian^ 
than the man. I was, however, beyond expression 
elated, and my conversation partook of the elevation of 
my soul. The evening was nothing; it was gone, ere I 
was sensible it had well commenced. Eliza, for that 
was her fascinating name, arose to take leave; I was 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



greatly chagrined, I had calculated upon attending her 
home, but a confidential friend had been sent to take 
charge of her. 1 ventured, however, to express a hope, 
that I should see her at Mrs. Allen's, a friend, warmly 
attached to us both, on the following Wednesday evening. 
She modestly replied, she would endeavor to be there; 
and in the interim, 1 sought to learn if she were disen- 
gaged, but I could obtain no satisfactory information. 
The appointed evening was passed most delightfully, at 
Mrs. Allen's; I had the felicity of attending the young 
lady home, and the temerity to ask such questions, as 
extorted an acknowledgment, that she was not engaged. 
With trembling eagerness, I then ventured to propose 
myself as a candidate for her favor. 'Alas! sir,' she 
replied, ' you have formed too high an opinion of my 
Character; I trust you will meet a person much more 
deserving of you, than I can pretend to be.' I re-urged 
my suit, with all the fervor, which youth, and an irre- 
pressible passion could furnish. Her answer is indelibly 
engraved upon the tablets of my memory. 6 You, and I, 
sir, profess to believe in an overruling Providence, we 
have both access to the throne of our heavenly Father. 
Let us, sir, unbosom ourselves to our God; I shall, I do 
assure you; so, I am persuaded, will you; and if, after 
we have thus done, we obtain the sanction of the Most 
High, I trust I shall be resigned.' We had now reached 
her habitation, the threshold of which, no professed fol- 
lower of Whitefield was ever allowed to pass. I suppli- 
cated for permission to write to her, and in the full confi- 
dence of christian amity, she acceded to the prayer of my 
petition. From this period, no week passed, during 
which we did not exchange letters, and the pages, we 
filled, might have been submitted to the most rigid inspec- 
tion. Mrs. Allen was our confidant, and every letter, 
which passed between us, was put into the hand of this 
discreet matron, without a seal. At the house of this 
lady we had frequent interviews, but never without 
witnesses, and our time was passed in singing hymns, 
and in devout prayer. I now believed myself the happiest 
being in creation; I was certain of possessing a most 
inestimable treasure; and although the grandfather of my 
Eliza, upon whom rested her whole dependence, never 
saw me; and, if he had, never would have sanctioned 
our union, we cherished that hope, which so generally 
proves fallacious. The dear girl requested me to seek, 
and obtain the explicit approbation of her brother, that 
she might at least insure his countenance; and upon my 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



9S 



application to him, he unhesitatingly replied : c I consider, 
dear sir, my sister as highly honored by your proposals. 5 
But, sir, have we your consent ? c Undoubtedly, sir, and 
with my whole heart. 3 This was sufficient, and I was 
completely happy. But, Alas! c never did the course of 
true love run smooth. 5 We were on the verge of a most 
distressing calamity: this brother, in whom we had repos- 
ed unlimited confidence, became my inveterate foe, and 
writing an anonymous letter to his grandfather, he repre- 
sented me as a fortune-hunter, who was seeking to obtain 
the heart of his grand-daughter, for the purpose of 
making a prey of her property! This letter produced 
the desired effect; the old gentleman was extremely 
irritated, and, sending for Eliza, he put the letter into 
her hand, and sternly asked her if she had entered into 
any engagement with a person by the name of Murray? 
when, receiving an answer in the affirmative, he gave 
full credit to all the rest, and being a man of violent 
passions, he threatened her with the loss of his favor, if 
she did not immediately promise to renounce me forever. 
He was well apprized, if he could obtain her promise, he 
had nothing further to apprehend. The firm, self-collect- 
ed girl, implored his pardon, if she did not yield credence 
to the slanders, contained in the despicable scrawl he had 
placed in her hand; she besought him to see me, to con- 
verse with me; promising, that if, upon a personal 
acquaintance, he continued to disapprove, she would 
endeavor to bend her mind to an acquiescence with his 
will. Her grandfather was inexorable; he would admit 
no conditions; and ultimately assured the young lady, if 
she did not relinquish every thought of me, she might 
give up all idea of ever receiving a single penny of his 
property. He granted her three days for deliberation, 
during which period, she was to consider herself a prison- 
er. Of this unexpected event, I speedily gained intelli- 
gence, and my soul was torn by apprehension. To Eliza 
I could have no access, and even the intercourse, by letter, 
was suspended! In this state of agonizing suspense, I 
remained, until, through the instrumentality of the 
chambermaid, a letter was brought to Mrs. Allen for me, 
which letter, while it gave a most affecting detail of her 
sufferings, contained the fullest assurance of her unbroken 
faith, and steadfastness. She recommended it to me, to 
apply to the same Source, from whence she herself had 
derived consolation; to the Almighty Father of our spirits, 
who held in His hands all hearts; and, she added, that 
no power, short of Omnipotence, should ever prevail 



94 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 

upon her to give her hand unaccompanied by her heart; 
and that, in a few hours, she should be so circumstanced 
as to prove the sincerity of my affection, for she was 
speedily to render her final answer to her grandfather. 
She hoped for divine support, during the arduous trial, to 
which she was called to submit; and she most earnestly 
solicited my prayers in her behalf. A second letter was 
soon handed me, giving an account of the second inter- 
view. 'Well, my dear child, said the old gentleman, 
c what am I to expect ? am I to lose my daughter, the 
comfort of my declining life? Or will you have compas- 
sion upon my old age, and relinquish this interested, 
designing man? 5 c If, my dear sir I had any reasons for 
supposing the person, of whom you speak, such as you 
believe him, the relinquishment, which you require, 
would not cost an effort; but, sir, Mr. Murray is an 
honest man, he has a sincere affection for me, I have 
given him reason to hope, and until I am convinced he is 
unworthy of my esteem, I cannot consent to treat him as 
if he were.' Here the passions of the old gentleman 
began to rise, when the dear girl besought him to be calm, 
assuring him it was neither her wish, nor intention to 
leave him; nay more, she would pledge her word never 
to leave him, while she could have the felicity of attend- 
ing upon him, if he would not insist upon her violating 
her faith, tacitly given to me. But this would not do; 
she must abandon her lover or her fortune; and finding 
her determined, he arose from his chair, and seizing his 
will, in which he had bequeathed her one thousand 
pounds sterling, he furiously flung it into the flames, 
immediately causing another will to be written, in which 
he gave to her brother, the portion designed for her; and 
thus did this young incendiary obtain the object, for 
which he had labored, and to which he had most nefari- 
ously, and darkly, groped his way. I had now the 
felicity of learning, that my Eliza had a stronger value 
for me, than for her patrimony; and she observed to her 
grandfather, that he had furnished her with an opportu- 
ity of proving the sincerity of my attachment. c If, 5 said 
she, c his views are such, as you have been taught to 
believe, he will shortly relinquish me, and thus have I, 
most opportunely, obtained a criterion/ Never did I 
receive a piece of intelligence productive of so much 
heart-felt pleasure, as the certainty of that potent pre- 
possession, which could thus enable her, whom I esteem- 
ed the most perfect of human beings, to surrender up, 
without a sigh, the gifts of fortune. Words cannot de- 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



93 



lineate, how greatly I conceived myself enriched, by this 
blissful assurance. Still I met the brother of Eliza, at 
the tabernacle, and occasionally at private societies, and 
still he wore the semblance of amity. Previous to this 
event, the elder Mr. Neale, who was always my friend, 
had become the head of a family ; during a few weeks, 
we continued in that condition when my invidious calum- 
niator requested me, by a written message, to give him a 
meeting at the house of his aunt, a lady who resided next 
door to his grandfather. I obeyed the summons, when, 
to my great astonishment, he informed me, it was his 
sister's wish, I would think of her no more; that there 
were many young ladies, with whom I might form a 
connexion, abundantly more advantageous; and that for 
herself, she was weary of contending with her grandfather. 
During the whole of this studied harangue, the torture of 
my soul was scarcely to be endured. After a most dis- 
tressing pause, I tremblingly interrogated: Tell me, sir, 
has Miss Neale really empowered you to act in her 
behalf? ( If you doubt it, here is a letter, written, with 
her own hand, furnished me upon a presumption, that I 
might not obtain a speedy opportunity of seeing you;' 
and he put the letter into my hand. Mr. Neale knew not, 
that I was in possession of many of his sister's letters; 
he knew not, that she had ever written to me; if he had, 
he would hardly have exhibited this scrawl, as hers. 
The anguish of my soul was no more; yet I assayed to 
conceal my emotions, and contented myself with solemnly 
declaring, that it was only from the lips of Miss Neale I 
would accept my dismission. ( You may,' said he, c rest 
assured, you will never, with her own consent, again see 
that young lady. 5 Thus spake, thus acted the man, 
whom, the very next morning, I met at Mr. Whitefield's 
communion. Leaving Mr. Neale, I returned to my 
lodgings, sat down and related to Eliza the whole busi- 
ness, enclosing the letter I had received as hers. The 
ensuing day gave me an assurance, under her own hand, 
that the whole procedure was unknown to her; request- 
ing, that I would remain perfectly easy; that I would 
keep my mind entirely to myself, making application 
only to the wonderful Counsellor, and resting in full 
assurance of her fidelity. This was enough, and my full 
soul rejoiced in the consolation, thus seasonably afforded 
me. Mr. Neale, supposing his arts had succeeded, 
brought forward proposals in favor of a gentleman, edu- 
cated by his grandfather, who had long loved my Eliza; 
but who, fearful of a rejection, had not disclosed his 



96 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



passion. Common fame soon wafted to my ear the 
report of these new pretensions; the gentleman was, in 
every respect, my superior, and he was declared a suc- 
cessful rival. I met the object of my soul's affection at 
Mrs. Allen's; I communicated the lacerating intelligence 
I had received; she smiled, tacitly assured me I had not 
much to apprehend, and according to custom, added, Let 
us improve our opportunity in the best possible manner, 
let us devote it to prayer, and to praise. Thus revolved 
days, weeks, and months; hoping, and fearing, joying, 
and sorrowing, while my gentle, my amiable friend, 
painfully reciprocated every anxiety. It was supposed, 
by her connexions, that she had relinquished her purpose 
in my favor, and a succession of advantageous proposals 
were brought forward, all of which she decisively rejected. 
Once a week, she was permitted to visit, when she never 
forgot to call upon Mrs. Allen. She also allowed me to 
attend her every Sunday morning before day during the 
winter; and I considered myself supremely happy, in the 
privilege of presenting myself at her dwelling, on those 
holy days, by four o'clock, waiting her appearance; and 
often have I been eyed with suspicion by the watch, and, 
in fact, I was once taken up. Neither storms nor tem- 
pests arrested my steps; and sometimes I have tarried, 
until the dawning day compelled me to retire, when I 
was obliged to pass on, in melancholy solitude, to the 
tabernacle. Yet, between love and devotion, I was a 
very happy, very disconsolate being. I richly enjoyed 
the pleasures of anticipation, which are generally believed 
to exceed possession; yet my own experience is very far 
from acknowledging the justice of this hypothesis. I 
continued in this state more than a year, snatching 
enjoyments when I could, and placing confidence in 
futurity. In the course of this year, my insidious, al- 
though still professing friend, married a lady of some 
property — two thousand pounds sterling; his grandrather 
adding two thousand more, one of which he had designed 
as provision for his granddaughter; and, strange as it 
may appear, this angel gir] uttered not, upon this occasion, 
a single reproach! The new alliance strengthen the 
family interest against me; the lady, without knowing 
me, was my inveterate foe. It was about this time dis- 
covered, that the attachment of Eliza remained in full 
force. Her grandfather imagined, that we cherished 
hope of a change in his sentiments, or that we should 
ultimately, at least in the event of his death, come into 
possession of some part of his property; and, that he 



JLIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 97 

might effectually crush every expectation, he so managed, 
as to put his most valuable possessions out of his own pow- 
er. The period at length arrived, which completed the 
minority of my tender friend; it was upon the eighteenth 
day of May, and this day, the elder Mr. Neale, who, as 
has been observed, had still continued my fast friend, 
determined to render a gala, by passing it with me in the 
country. With the early dawn we commenced our little 
excursion, when we beheld, at a distance, a young lady 
with a small parcel in her hand; we approached her 3 
and, to our great astonishment, recognised, in this young 
lady, the sister of my friend, the precious object of my 
most ardent love. Upon that memorable morning she 
had quitted the house of her grandfather, and all she 
possessed, that had been his, leaving upon her writing 
desk a letter, which lay there, until the family, alarmed 
at her not making her appearance at the breakfast table, 
entered her apartment, whence the lovely sufferer had so 
recently flown. The letter furnished an explanation; 
it was addressed to her grandfather, and it informed him, 
that the writer would ever acknowledge unreturnable 
obligations, for the many favors he had conferred upon 
her; that, if she could have been indulged with her wish 
of living with him, she should have been content; but, 
as the solicitations to enter into matrimonial engagements, 
by which she was persecuted, were unceasing, she was 
convinced she should not be allowed to give this testi- 
mony of her filial attachment; and being now of age, she 
begged leave to deliver up the keys, the sums of money, 
with which she had been entrusted, and whatever else 
had pertained to her grandfather; adding an assurance, 
that she should no more return. Her brother William 
immediately conducted her to his house, whither I attended 
them, and where, by her positive orders, we were oblig- 
ed to leave her. Agreeably to her request, we proceeded 
on our proposed walk, and we learned on our return, 
that repeated messengers had been dispatched by her 
grandfather, soliciting her again to become an inmate in 
his house, and that the lady of her youngest brother had 
been commissioned for this purpose; but that every 
entreaty had proved ineffectual. For me, fondly flatter- 
ing myself, that 1 should immediately exchange my vows 
with my amiable, my affianced friend, at the altar of our 
God, I was superlatively happy; but again my high- 
wrought expectations proved fallacious. This strong- 
minded woman was a votary of propriety, and she was 
determined it should not appear, that she had quitted a 



98 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



parent, for the purpose of throwing herself into the arms 
of a husband. She had bid adieu to the paternal roof, 
because she could not, while there, be allowed the exer- 
cise of her own judgment; because measures were taking 
to compel her to marry a man, she could never approve. 
Her eldest brother, her beloved William, she was confi- 
dent would patronize, and protect her; and her needle 
was a resource, from which she could always derive a 
competency. 



CHAPTER IV. 

The Author becomes a happy husband, a. happy fa* 
ther. He embraces ( the truth as it is in Jesus,' and 
from this, and other combining causes, he is involved in 
great difficulties. Death deprives him of his wedded 
friend, and of his infant son, and he is overtaken by a se- 
ries of calamities. 

Hail ! wedded love ! connubial friendship, hail ! 
Based on esteem, — if love supplies the gale, 
Borne on life's stream we cut our beamy way, 
On smooth seas wafted to the realms of day. 

After six tedious months, from the morning of my Eliza's 
departure from the mansion of her grandfather, had com- 
pleted their tardy round, yielding to my unremitted im- 
portunities she consented to accompany me to the altar. 
We were attended by William, and his lady, with our 
dear Mrs. Allen; and I received, from the hands of our 
Very dear brother, an inestimable treasure, which consti- 
tuted me in my own estimation, the happiest of human 
beings. As I had no house prepared, I gratefully accept- 
ed the kindness of this beloved brother, who invited us 
to tarry with him, until we could accommodate ourselves; 
and, if I except one unhappy misunderstanding, which 
took place soon after our marriage, no wedded pair were 
ever blessed with more unbroken felicity. The disagree- 
ment, to which I advert, would not have continued so 
long, but for the instigations of our brother William, 
who insisted upon my supporting what he called my 
dignity, which, as he said, could only be maintained by 
the submission of my wife. The quarrel, like the quar- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



99 



sttels of most married people, originated in a mere trifle; 
but the question was, who should make the first 
conciliatory advances. For two whole days we did not 
exchange a single word!! William still imposingly 
urging me, never to surrender my prerogative ! At length, 
unable to endure such a state of wretchedness, I told 
William, I would not live another hour in such a situa- 
tion; he only ridiculed me for my folly, and bid me take 
the consequence. I, however, entered the chamber of 
my wife, and, extending my hand, most affectionately said. 
My soul's best treasure, let us no longer continue this 
state of mournful estrangement 1 for the world I would 
not thus live another day. Why, my love, our sorrows 
will arise from a thousand sources; let us not render 
each other miserable. The dear girl burst into tears, 
and throwing her faithful arms around me, sobbed upon 
my bosom, with difficulty articulating, c O ! my precious 
friend, you have, as you always will have, the superi- 
ority. God for ever bless my faithful, my condescend- 
ing husband. 5 From this moment we bade adieu to dis- 
sension of every description, successfully cultivating 
that harmony of disposition and augmenting confidence, 
which cannot fail of insuring domestic felicity. We soon 
removed to a house of our own, and there, as I believe, 
enjoyed as much of happiness, as ever fell to the lot of 
humanity. Yet, although thus satisfied with each other, 
there were sources of inquietude, which created us some 
distress. I had heard much of Mr. Relly; he was a 
conscientious, and zealous preacher, in the city of Lon- 
don. He had, through many revolving years, continued 
faithful to the ministry committed to him, and he was 
the theme of every religious sect. He appeared, as he 
was represented to me, highly erroneous; and my indig- 
nation against him, as has already been seen, was very 
strong. I had frequently been solicited to hear him, 
merely that I might be an ear witness of what was term- 
ed his blasphemies; but, I arrogantly said, I would not 
be a murderer of time. Thus I passed on for a number 
of years, hearing all manner of evil said of Mr. Relly, 
and believing all I heard, while every day augmented 
the inveterate hatred, which I bore the man, and his 
adherents. When a worshipping brother, or sister, be- 
longing to the communion, which I considered as honor- 
ed by the approbation of Deity was, by this deceiver, 
drawn from the paths of rectitude, the anguish of my 
spirit was indescribable: and I was ready to say, the 
secular arm ought to interpose to prevent the perdition 



100 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



of . souls. I recollect one instance in particular, whicfe 
pierced me to the soul. A young lady, of irreproachable life, 
remarkable for piety, and highly respected by the taber- 
nacle congregation and church, of which I was a de- 
vout member, had been ensnared; to my great astonish- 
ment, she had been induced to hear, and having heard, 
she had embraced the pernicious errors of this detesta- 
ble babbler; she was become a believer, a firm, and un- 
wavering believer of universal redemption! Horrible! 
most horrible ! So high an opinion was entertained of 
my talents, having myself been a teacher among the 
Methodists, and such was my standing in Mr. White- 
field's church, that I was deemed adequate to reclaiming 
this wanderer, and I was strongly urged to the pursuit. 
The poor deluded young woman was abundantly wor- 
thy our most arduous efforts. He, that converteth the 
sinner from the error of his way, shall save a soul from 
death, and shall hide a multitude of sins. Thus I thought, 
thus I said; and, swelled with a high idea of my own 
importance, I went, accompanied by two or three of my 
Christian brethren, to see, to converse with, and, if 
need were, to admonish this simple, weak, but, as we 
heretofore believed, meritorious female. Fully persuad- 
ed, that I could easily convince her of her errors, I en- 
tertained no doubt respecting the result of my undertak- 
ing. The young lady received us with much kind- 
ness and condescension, while, as I glanced my eye 
upon her fine countenance, beaming with intelligence, 
mingling pity and contempt grew in my bosom. After 
the first ceremonies, we sat for some time silent; at 
length I drew up a heavy sigh, and uttered a pathetic 
sentiment, relative to the deplorable condition of those, 
who live, and die in unbelief; and I concluded a violent 
declamation, by pronouncing, with great earnestness, He > 
that believeth not, shall be damned. 

6 And pray, sir, said the young lady, with great sweet- 
ness, c Pray, sir, what is the unbeliever damned for not 
believing? 5 

What is he damned for not believing? Why, he is 
damned for not believing. 

c But, my dear sir, she asked what was that, which he 
did not believe, for which he was damned? 5 

Why, for not believing in Jesus Christ, to be sure. 

c Do you mean to say, that unbelievers are damned, 
for not believing there was such a person as Jesus 
Christ ?* 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



101 



f No, I do not; a man may believe there was such a per- 
son, and yet be damned. 

6 What then, sir, must he believe, in order to avoid 
damnation ? 3 

Why he must believe that Jesus Christ is a complete 
Saviour. 

c Well, suppose he were to believe, that Jesus Christ 
was the complete Saviour of others, would this belief 
save him? 3 

No, he must believe, that Christ Jesus is his complete 
Saviour; every individual must believe for himself, that 
Jesus Christ is his complete Saviour. 

6 Why, sir, is Jesus Christ the Saviour of any unbeliev- 
ers?' 

No, madam. 

c Why, then, should any unbeliever believe, that Jesus 
Christ is his Saviour, if he be not his Saviour? 9 

I say he is not the Saviour of any one, until he be- 
lieves. 

6 Then, if Jesus be not the Saviour of the unbeliever, 
until he believes, the unbeliever is called upon to believe 
a lie. It appears to me, sir, that Jesus is the complete 
Saviour of unbelievers ; and that unbelievers are called 
upon to believe the truth; and that, by believing they are 
saved, in their own apprehension, saved from all those dread- 
ful fears, which are consequent upon a state of conscious 
condemnation. 3 

No, madam; you are dreadfully, I trust not fatally, 
misled. Jesus never was, nor never will be, the Saviour 
of any unbeliever. 

6 Do you think Jesus is your Saviour, sir? 3 

I hope he is. 

c Were you always a believer, sir ? 3 
No, madam. 

* Then you were once an unbeliever; that is, you once 
believed, that Jesus Christ was not your Saviour. Now, 
as you say, he never was, nor never will be, the Saviour 
of any unbeliever; as you were once an unbeliever, he 
never can be your Saviour. 5 

He never was my Saviour till I believed. 

c Did he never die for you, till you believed, sir? 3 

Here I was extremely embarrassed, and most devoutly 
wished myself out of her habitation; I sighed bitterly, 
expressed deep commiseration for those souls, who had 
nothing but head-knowledge; drew out my watch, dis~ 



102 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



covered it was late; and, recollecting an engagement, ob- 
served it was time to take leave.* 

I was extremely mortified : the young lady observed my 
confusion, but was too generous to pursue her triumph. 
I arose to depart; the company arose; she urged us to 
tarry; addressed each of us in the language of kindness. 
Her countenance seemed to wear a resemblance of the 
heaven which she contemplated; it was stamped by benig- 
nity; and when we bade her adieu, she enriched us by her 
good wishes. 

I suspected that my religious brethren saw she had the 
advantage of me; and I felt, that her remarks were in- 
deed unanswerable. My pride was hurt, and I determin- 
ed to ascertain the exact sentiments of my associates, re- 
specting this interview. Poor soul, said I, she is far gone 
in error. True, said they; but she is, notwithstanding, a 
very sensible woman. Ay, ay, thought I, they have as- 
suredly discovered, that she has proved too mighty for 
me. Yes, said I, she has a great deal of head knowledge; 
but yet she may be a lost, damned sou J. I hope not, re- 
turned one of my friends; she is a very good young 
woman. I saw, and it was with extreme chagrin, that 
the result of this visit had depreciated me in the opinion of 
my companions. But I could only censure and condemn, 
solemnly observing, — It was better not to converse with 
any of those apostates, and it would be judicious never 
to associate with them upon any occasion. From this 
period, I myself carefully avoided every Universalist, 
and most cordially did I hate them. My ear was open 
to the public calumniator, to the secret whisperer, and I 
yielded credence to every scandalous report, however, 
improbable. My informers were good people; I had no 
doubt of their veracity; and I believed it would be diffi- 
cult to paint Relly, and his connexions, in colors too 
black. How severely has the law of retaliation been 
since exercised in the stabs, which have been aimed at 
my own reputation ! Relly was described, as a man black 
with crimes: an atrocious offender, both in principle and 
practice. He had, it was said, abused and deserted an 

*More than half a century has elapsed since the conversation 
here related took place, and there has been much controversy 
upon the subject; yet it has not come to our knowledge that the 
opposers of Universalism have discovered any better way of an- 
swering the inquiry of the young convert than that adopted, at 
that time by our author. What is that truth the unbelief of 
which makes God a liar? It is ; that he is the Saviour of all man- 
kind. . Ed. j 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



103 



amiable wife; and 5 it was added, that he retained in his 
house an abandoned woman; and that he not only thus 
conducted himself, but, publicly, and most nefariously, 
taught his hearers to dare the laws of their country, and 
their God. Hence, said my informers, the dissipated and 
unprincipled, of every class, flock to his church; his con- 
gregation is astonishingly large, the carriages of the great 
block up the street, in which his meeting-house stands, 
and he is the idol of the voluptuous of every description. 
All this, and much more was said, industriously propaga- 
ted, and credited in every religious circle. Denomina- 
tions, at variance with each other, most cordially agreed in 
thus thinking, and thus speaking of Relly, of his preach- 
ing, and of his practice. I confess I felt a strong inclina- 
tion to see, and hear this monster, once at least; but the 
risk was dreadful ! I could not gather courage to hazard 
the steadfastness of my faith; and for many years I per- 
severed in my resolution, on no consideration to Contam- 
inate my ear by the sound of his voice. At length, how 
ever, I was prevailed upon to enter his church; but I 
detested the sight of him; and my mind, prejudiced by 
the reports, to which I had listened respecting him, was 
too completely filled with a recollection of his fancied 
atrocities, to permit a candid attention to his subject, or 
his mode of investigation. I wondered much at his im- 
pudence, in daring to speak in the name of God; and I 
felt assured, that he was treasuring up unto himself wrath 
against the day of wrath. I looked upon his deluded au- 
dience with alternate pity and contempt, and I thanked 
God, that I was not one of them. I rejoiced, when I es- 
caped from the house, and, as I passed home, I exclaim- 
ed, almost audibly: Why, O my God, was 1 not left in 
this deplorable, damnable state? given up, like this poor 
unfortunate people, to believe a lie, to the utter perver- 
sion of my soul? But I was thus furnished with another 
proof of my election, in consequence of my not being de- 
ceived by this detestable deceiver; and, of course, my 
consolation was great. 

About this time, there was a religious society establish- 
ed in Cannon-street, in an independent meeting-house, 
for the purpose of elucidating difficult passages of scrip- 
ture. This society chose for their president a Mr. Mason, 
who, although not a clerical gentleman, was neverthe- 
less, of high standing in the religious world : frequent ap- 
plications were made to him, in the character of a physi- 
cian to the sinking, sorrowing, sin-sick soul. His figure 
was commanding, and well calculated to fill the minds of 



104 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



young converts with religious awe, When this company 
of serious inquirers were assembled, the president ad- 
dressed the throne of grace, in a solemn and appropriate 
prayer, and the subject for the evening was next pro- 
posed. Every member of the society was indulged with 
the privilege of expressing his sentiments, for the space 
of five minutes ; a glass was upon the table, which ran 
accurately the given term. The president held in his 
hand a small ivory hammer: when the speaker's time 
had expired, he had a right to give him notice by a stroke 
on the table, round which the members were seated. 
But, if he approved of what was delivered, it was option- 
al with him to extend the limits of his term. When the 
question had gone round the table, the president summed 
up the evidences, gave his own judgment, and, having 
proposed the question for the next evening, concluded 
with prayer. 

Upon this society I was a constant attendant, and I 
was frequently gratified by the indulgence of the presi- 
dent and the implied approbation of the society. It was 
on the close of one of those evenings, which were to me 
very precious opportunities, that the president took me 
by the hand, and requested me to accompany him into 
the vestry. 6 Sit down, my good sir: you cannot but have 
seen, that I have long distinguished you in this society; 
that I have been pleased with your observations; and I 
have given indisputable evidence, that both my reason 
and my judgment, approved your remarks. 5 I bowed 
respectfully, and endeavored to express my gratitude, in 
a manner becoming an occasion so truly flattering. 

6 My object,' said he, 4 in seeking to engage you in pri- 
vate, is to request you would take home with you a pam- 
phlet I have written against Relly's Union. I have long 
wondered, that some able servant of our Master has not 
taken up this subject. But, as my superiors are silent, I 
have been urged by a sense of duty to make a stand, and 
I have done all in my power to prevent the pernicious 
tendency of this soul-destroying book.' 

Although, at this period, I had never seen Relly's 
Union, yet my heart rejoiced, that Mason, this great and 
good man, had undertaken to write against it, and, from 
the abundance of my heart, my mouth overflowed with 
thankfulness. 

c All that I request of you, said Mr. Mason, ( is to take 
this manuscript home with you, and keep it till our next 
meeting. Meet me in this vestry, a little before the usu- 
al time. Read it, I entreat you, carefully, and favor me 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



105 



with your unbiassed sentiments.' I was elated by the 
honor done me and I evinced much astonishment at the 
confidence reposed in me. But he was pleased to ex- 
press a high opinion of my judgment, abilities, and good- 
ness of heart, and he begged leave to avail himself of 
those qualities, with which his fancy had invested me. 

I took the manuscript home, perused it carefully, and 
with much pleasure, until I came to a passage at which 
I was constrained to pause, painfully to pause. Mr. Rel- 
ly has said, speaking of the record, which God gave of 
his Son : This life is in his Son, and he, that believeth 
not this record, maketh God a liar; from whence, infer- 
red Mr. Relly, it is plain, that God hath given this eter- 
nal life in the Son to unbelievers, as fully as to believers, 
else the unbeliever could not, by his unbelief make God a 
Her. This, said Mr. Mason, punning upon the author's 
name, is just as clear, as that this writer is an Irish 
Bishop. I was grieved to observe, that Mr. Mason could 
say no more upon a subject so momentous; nor could I 
forbear allowing more, than I wished to allow, to the 
reasoning of Mr. Relly. Most devoutly did I lament, 
that the advantage in argument did not rest with my ad- 
mired friend, Mason; and I was especially desirous that 
this last argument should have been completely confuted. 
I was positive, that God never gave eternal life to any 
unbeliever; and yet I was perplexed to decide how, if 
God had not given life to unbelievers, they could 
possibly make God a liar, by believing that he had not. 
My mind was incessantly exercised, and greatly embar- 
rassed upon this question. What is it to make any one 
a liar, but to deny the truth of what he has said ? But, 
if God had no where said, he had given life to unbelievers 
how could the unbeliever make God a liar? The stronger 
this argument seemed in favor of the grace and love of 
God, the more distressed and unhappy I became; and 
most earnestly did I wish, that Mr. Mason's pamphlet 
might contain something that was more rational, more 
scriptural, than a mere pun; that he might be able to ad- 
duce proof positive^ that the gift of God, which is ever- 
lasting life, was never given to any but believers. I was 
indisputably assured, that I myself was a believer; and 
right precious did I hold my exclusive property in the Son 
of God. 

At the appointed time, I met Mr. Mason in the vestry. 
< Well, sir, I presume you have read my manuscript?' I 
have, sir, and I have read it repeatedly. e Well, sir, speak 
freely, is there any thing in the manuscript which you 
10 



106 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



dislike? 5 Why, sir, as you are so good as to indulge me 
with the liberty of speaking, I will venture to point out 
one passage, which appears to me not sufficiently clear. 
Pardon me, sir, but surely argument, especially upon re- 
ligious subjects , is preferable to ridicule, to punning upon 
the name of an author. c And where, pray, is the objec- 
tionable paragraph, to which you advert?' I pointed it 
out; but, on looking in his face, I observed his counte- 
nance fallen; it was no longer toward me. Mr. Mason 
questioned my judgment, and never afterward honored me 
by his attention. However, I still believed Mason right, 
and Relly wrong; for if Relly was right, the conclusion 
was unavoidable, all men must finally be saved. But this 
was out of the question, utterly impossible; all religious 
denominations agreed to condemn this heresy, to consid- 
er it as a damnable doctrine, and what every religious de- 
nomination united to condemn, must be false.* 

Thus, although I lost the favor of Mr. Mason, and 
he published his pamphlet precisely as it stood, when 
submitted to my perusal, yet my reverential regard for him 
was not diminished. I wished, most cordially wished suc- 
cess to his book, and destruction to the author against 
whom it was written. 

In this manner, some months rolled over my head, 
when, accompanying my wife on a visit to her aunt, after 
the usual ceremonies, I repaired, according to custom, 
to the book-case, and turning over many books and 
pamphlets, I at length opened one, that had been robbed 
of its title page; but in running it over, I came to the 
very argument, which had excited so much anxiety in 
my bosom. It was the first moment I had ever seen 
a line of Mr. Relly's writing, except in Mr. Mason's 
pamphlet. I was much astonished, and turning to Mrs. 
Murray, I informed her, I held Mr. Relly's Union in 
my hand. I asked our uncle, if I might put it in my 
pocket? 6 Surely,' said he, c and keep it there, if you 
please, I never read books of divinity; I know not what 
the pamphlet is, nor do I wish to know.' As I put it 
into my pocket, my mind became alarmed, and perturb- 
ed. It was dangerous, it was tampering with poison; 
it was like taking fire into my bosom; I had better 
throw it into the flames, or restore it to the book-case; 

*In the state of Mr. Murray's mind at that time, we have a lively 
representation of what is true of thousands who would pass for sin- 
cere inquirers after truth. We cannot withhold the following senti- 
ment : i Truth is no less true on account of the weakness of its vota- 
ries ; nor can error be made truth by the approbation of misguided 
millions/ 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY. 



107 



such was the conflict in my bosom. However in the 
full assurance, that the elect were safe; and that, although 
they took any deadly thing, it should not hurt them, I 
decided to read the Union; and having thus made up my 
mind, experienced a degree of impatience, until I reach- 
ed home, when, addressing the dear companion of my 
youth, I said, I have, my dear, judged, and condemned, 
before I have heard; but I have now an opportunity given 
me for deliberate investigation. c But, 5 returned Mrs. 
Murray, c are we sufficient of ourselves ? 5 No, my love, 
certainly we are not; but God, all gracious, hath said. 
If any lack wisdom, let them ask of God, who giveth lib- 
erally and upbraideth not. My heart is exercised by 
fearful apprehensions; this moment I dread to read, the 
next I am anxious to hear what the author can say. We 
will, therefore, lay this book before our God. There 
is, my love, a God, who is not far from every one of 
us : we are directed to make our requests known unto 
Him for all things, by supplication and prayer. God 
hath never yet said to any. Seek ye my face, in vain; 
we will then pray for his direction and counsel; and we 
may rest in the assurance of obtaining both. Accord- 
ingly, we entered our closet, and both of us, for we were 
both equally interested, prostrated ourselves before 
God, with prayers and tears, beseeching Him, the God 
of mercy, to look with pity on us; we were on the point 
of attending to doctrines of which we were not, we 
could not be judges, and we earnestly supplicated Him 
to lead us into all truth. If the volume before us con- 
tained truth, we entreated Him to show it to us, and to 
increase our faith; if on the other hand, it contained 
falsehood, we beseeched God to make it manifest, that 
we might not be deceived. No poor criminal ever prayed 
for life, when under sentence of death, with greater 
fervor of devotion, than did my laboring soul upon this 
occasion supplicate for the light of life to direct my 
erring steps. After thus weeping, and thus supplicating, 
we opened the bible, and began to read this book, look- 
ing into the bible for the passages, to which the writer 
referred. We were astonished and delighted at the beauty 
of the scriptures, thus exhibited: it seemed, as if every 
sentence was an apple of gold in a picture of silver; and 
still, as we proceeded, the wonder was, that so much di- 
vine truth should be spoken by so heinous a transgressor; 
and this consideration seemed suggested, as a reason 
why I should not continue reading. Can any thing good 
proceed from such a character? Would not truth have 



4 



108 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



been revealed to men, eminent for virtue? How is it 
possible discoveries, so important, should never, until 
now, have been made, and now only by this man ? Yet 
I considered, God's ways ivere in the great deep; he 
would send, by whom he would send; choosing the weak 
and base things to confound the mighty and the strong, 
that no flesh should glory in his presence. And, as my 
lovely wife justly observed, I was not sure, all I heard 
of Mr. Relly was true; that our Saviour had said to 
his disciples, They shall say all manner of evil of you 
falsely; and the present instance may be a case in point. 
*You have no personal acquaintance with Mr. Relly, 5 
said she: c nor do you know, that any of those, from 
whom you have received his character; are better in- 
formed than yourself. I think it doth not become us to 
speak or believe evil of any man, without the strongest 
possible proof 3 All this was rational; I felt its full 
force, and blushed for my own credulity. I proceeded 
to read. The Union introduced me to many passages of 
scripture, which had before escaped my observation. 
A student, as I had been of the scriptures, from the first 
dawn of my reason, I could not but wonder at myself; 
I turned to Mr. Mason's book, and I discovered want of 
candor, and a kind of duplicity, which had not before 
met my view, and which perhaps would never have 
caught my attention had I not read the Union. I saw 
the grand object untouched, while Relly had clearly 
pointed out the doctrines of the gospel. Yet there were 
many passages, that I could not understand, and I felt 
myself distressingly embarrassed. One moment I wish- 
ed from my soul, I had never seen the Union; and the 
next my heart was enlarged, and lifted up by considera- 
tions, which swelled my bosom to ecstasy. This was 
the situation of my mind, during many succeeding months, 
and a large proportion of my time was passed in reading, 
and studying the scriptures, and in prayer. My under- 
standing was pressing on to new attainments, and the 
prospect brightened before me. I was greatly attached 
to my minister, Mr. Hitchins: he was eminent in his 
line, and a most pleasing preacher. Mrs. Murraj' was 
in the habit of taking down his sermons in short hand. 
We were delighted with the man, and accustomed to 
consider him a genuine gospel preacher. It happened, 
that Mr. Hitchins took a journey into the country, and 
was absent on the sabbath day. Come, my dear, said 
I, our minister is out of town, let us avail ourseJ \ es of 
the opportunity, and hear the writer of the Union; this is a 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



109 



privilege, which few, who read books, ean have; as au- 
thors are generally numbered with the dead, before their 
labors are submitted to the public eye. 5 Her consent 
was yielded to my solicitations; but we were terrified, as 
we passed along, in the fear of meeting some of our 
religious brethren; happily, however, we reached the 
meeting-house, without encountering any one, to whom 
we were known. i 

Mr. Relly had changed his place of worship, and we 
were astonished to observe a striking proof of the false- 
hood of those reports, which had reached us; no coaches 
thronged the street, nor surrounded the door of this meet- 
ing-house; there was no vestige of grandeur, either 
within or without. The house had formerly been occu- 
pied by Quakers; their were no seats, save a few benches; 
and the pulpit was framed of a few rough boards, over 
which no plane had ever passed. The audience corres- 
ponded with the house, they did not appear very reli- 
gious; that is, they were not melancholy; and I therefore 
suspected they had not much piety. I attended to every 
thing; the hymn was good, the prayer excellent, and I 
was astonished to witness, in so bad a man, so much 
apparent devotion; for still, I must confess, the pre- 
judices, I had received from my religious friends, were 
prevalent in my mind. Mr. Relly gave out his text. 
( Either make the tree good, audits fruit good, or the tree 
corrupt, and its fruit corrupt; for every tree is known by 
its fruit; a good tree cannot bring forth corrupt fruit, 
neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. 5 I was 
immeasurably surprised. What, thought I, has this man 
to do with a passage, so calculated to condemn himself? 
But, as he proceeded, every faculty of my soul was pow- 
erfully seized and captivated, and I was perfectly amazed, 
while he explained who we were to understand by the 
good and who by the bad trees. He proved, beyond con- 
tradiction, that a good tree could not bring forth any 
corrupt fruit, but there was no man, who lived and sin- 
ned not; all mankind had corrupted themselves, there 
were none therefore good; no, not one. ) 

No mere man, since the fall, has been able to keep 
the commandments of God; but daily doth break them, in 
thought, in vjord and in deed. There was, however, 
one good tree, JESUS; He indeed stands, as the apple- 
tree, among the trees of the wood; He is that good tree 
which cannot bring forth corrupt fruit; under His shadow 
the believer reposeth; the fruit of this tree is sweet to his 
taste; and the matter of his theme constantly is c Whom 
10* 



110 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



have I in heaven, but thee, and there is none upon earth, 
that I desire, beside thee.' I was constrained to believe, 
that I had never, until this moment, heard the Redeem- 
er preached; and, as I said, I attended with my whole 
soul. I was humbled, I was confounded; I saw clearly, 
that I had been all my life expecting good fruit from 
corrupt trees, grapes on thorns, and Jigs on thistles. I 
suspected myself; I had lost my standing; I was unsettled, 
perturbed, and wretched. A few individuals, whom I 
had known at Mr. Whitefield's tabernacle, were among 
Mr. Relly's audience, and I heard them say, as they 
passed out of the aisle of the church, I wonder how the 
Pharisees would like our preacher? I wished to hear 
Mrs. Murray speak upon the subject; but we passed on 
wrapped in contemplation. At length I broke silence: 
Well, my dear, what are your sentiments ? c Nay, my 
dear, what is your opinion? 5 I never heard truth, un- 
adulterated truth, before; so sure as there is a God in 
heaven, if the scriptures be the word of God, the testi- 
mony this day delivered, is the truth of God. It is the 
first consistent sermon I have ever heard. I reached 
home full of this sermon; took up the Union, read it 
with new pleasure; attended again and again, upon Mr. 
Relly, and was more and more astonished. Mr. Hitch- 
ins returned home, but, as I conceived, very much chang- 
ed, more inconsistent than ever. ( No, my dear, 5 said 
my wife, c it is you, who are changed; he preaches, as I 
can prove by my notes, precisely the same; yet it is truly 
surprising, that his multiplied contradictions have, until 
now, passed without our observation. 5 Well, said I, 
what are we to do? Can we, in future bear such in- 
consistencies, now that we are better informed ? Suppose 
we keep our seats as usual; attending, however, one 
half of every Sabbath, to the preacher of Christ Jesus? 
On this we immediately determined, and, by this expe- 
dient, we imagined we might be gratified by hearing 
the truth, without running the risk of losing our repu- 
tation; for we well knew, that as professed adherents 
of Mr. Relly, we could no longer preserve that spotless 
fame we delighted to cherish* 

I now commenced the reading of the Scriptures, with 
augmented diligence. The Bible was indeed a new book 
to me; the veil was iaken from my heart, and the word 
of my God became right precious to my soul. Many 
scriptures, that I had not before known, forcibly pressed 
upon my observation; and many, that, until now, I had 
not suffered myself to believe. Still the doctrine of elec- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Ill 



Hon distressed me; unfortunately, I had connected this 
doctrine of election with the doctrine of final reprobation; 
not considering^, that, although the first was indubitably 
a scripture doctrine, the last was not to be found in, nor 
could be supported by revelation* I determined to call 
upon, and converse with Mr. Hitchins, on this important 
subject. I found him in his study, encompassed about 
with the writings of great men. I wait upon you, sir, for 
the purpose of obtaining help. The Arminians show 
me many scriptures, which proclaim the universality of 
the Atonement. I cannot answer them. What my dear 
sir, shall I do ? 6 Why, sir, the doctrines of election, and 
reprobation, are doctrines we are bound to believe, as 
articles of our faith; but I can say, with the Rev. Mr. 
Hervey, I never wish to think of them, except upon my 
knees. I never heard any one undertake to explain them, 
who did not still further embarrass the subject. One 60- 
servation is, however, conclusive, and it never fails ef- 
fectually to silence the Arminian : That if, as they af- 
firm, Christ died for all men, then assuredly all men must 
be saved; for no one can be eternally lost, for whom the 
.Redeemer shed his precious blood; such an event is im- 
possible. Now, as the Arminians will not admit a pos- 
sibility, that all will finally be saved, they are thus easily 
confounded.' This, I thought, was very good; it was 
clear, as any testimony in divine revelation, that Christ 
Jesus, died for all, for the sins of' the whole world, for 
every man, &c; and even Mr. Hitchens had declared, 
that every one, for whom Christ died must finally be 
saved. This I took home with me to my wife: she saw 
the truth, that we were so well prepared to embrace, 
manifested even by the testimony of its enemies, and we 
were inexpressibly anxious to hear, and to understand. 
We now attended public worship, not only as a duty, 
conceiving that we thus increased a fund of righteousness, 
upon which we were to draw in every exigence, but it 
became our pleasure, our consolation, and our highest en- 
joyment. We began to feed upon the truth as it is in 
Jesus, and every discovery we made filled us with unut- 
terable transport. I regarded my friends with increasing 
affection, and I conceived, if I had an opportunity of con- 
versing with the whole world, the whole world would be 

* It was quite natural for Mr. Murray, impressed as his mind was 
with the sentiments of Mr. Whitefield, to embrace the doctrine of f 
Election, as here given. Universalists generally would, perhaps 
now dissent from his peculiar views of the subject. Our own senti- 
ments are well expressed in Eph. i. 1 — 10. Ed. 



112 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



convinced. It might truly have been said, that we had a 
taste of heaven below. 

It was soon whispered in the tabernacle, that I had fre- 
quently been seen going to, and coming from Relly's 
meeting! This alarmed many, and one dear friend con- 
versed with me in private upon the subject, heard what, 
from the abundance of my heart, my mouth was con- 
strained to utter, smiled, pitied me, and begged I would 
not be too communicative, lest the business should be 
brought before the society, and excommunication might 
follow. I thanked him for his caution; but as I had con- 
versed only with him, I had hazarded nothing. In a short 
time I was cited to appear before the society, worshipping 
in Mr. Whitefield's tabernacle; I obeyed the summons, 
and found myself in the midst of a very gloomy compa- 
ny, all seemingly in great distress; they sighed very bit- 
terly, and at last gave me to understand, that they had 
heard, I had become an attendant upon that monster, 
Relly, and they wished to know if their information was 
correct. I requested I might be told, from whom they 
had their intelligence ? and they were evidently embar- 
rassed by my question. Still, however, I insisted upon 
being confronted with my accuser, and they at length 
consented to summon him; but I was nearly petrified, 
when I learned it was the identical friend, who had pri- 
vately conversed with me, and who had privately caution- 
ed me, that had lodged the information against me ' Up- 
on this friend I had called, in my way to the tabernacle, 
confiding to him my situation; he said, he had feared the 
event; he pitied me, and prayed with me. But he did not 
calculate upon being confronted with me, and his confu- 
sion was too great to suffer his attendance. It was then 
referred to me : c Was it a fact, had I attended upon 
Relly? 5 I had. 6 Did I believe what I heard? 5 I an- 
swered, that I did — and my trial commenced. They 
could not prove, I had violated those articles, to which I 
had subscribed. I had, in no point of view, infringed 
the contract, by which I was bound. But they appre- 
hended, if I continued to approbate Relly, by my occa- 
sional attendance on his ministry, my example would be- 
come contagious; except, therefore, I would give them 
my word, that I would wholly abandon this pernicious 
practice, they must, however unwillingly, pronounce up- 
on me the sentence of excommunication. I refused to 
bind myself by any promise; I assured them, I would con- 
tinue to hear, and to judge for myself; and that I held it 
my duty, to receive the truth of God wherever it might 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



113 



be manifested. c But Relly holds the truth in unright- 
eousness.' I have nothing to do with his unrighteous - 
ness; my own conduct is not more reprehensible, than 
heretofore. They granted this; but the force of exam- 
ple was frequently irresistible, and, if I were permitted to 
follow uncensured, my own inclination, others might 
claim the same indulgence, to the utter perversion of their 
souls. It was then conceded in my favor, that, if I would 
confine my sentiments to my own bosom, they would 
continue me a member of their communion. I refused to 
accede to this proposal. I would not be under an obli^ 
gation to remain silent. I must, so often as opportunity 
might present, consider myself as called upon to advocate 
truth. The question was then put — Should I be con- 
sidered a member of the society upon my own terms? 
And it was lost by only three voices. 

It was one in the morning, when I returned home to 
my poor disconsolate wife, who was waiting for me; and 
when I entered her apartment, my spirits were so sunk, 
that, throwing myself into a chair, I burst into tears. 
But the sweet soother of my every woe, hastened to com- 
municate that consolation, she w s so eminently qualifi- 
ed to bestow. 6 Now, 5 said she, ' for the first time, you 
know what it is to suffer for Christ's sake; and you must 
arm yourself with fortitude to bear, what the adherents 
of Mr. Relly must always bear. Let us offer up praise 
and thanksgiving, that it is no worse. Fear not those, 
who can only kill the body; these, however, have not power 
to kill the body; it is true they can do more; they can 
murder our good name, which is rather to be chosen than 
life itself. But' let us not fear; our God will be with us, 
He will preserve, and protect us.' Our hearts, however, 
were very full, and with great devotion we wept and 
prayed together. 

About this time, the grandfather of my Eliza sent for 
her to visit him at his country seat, ten miles from Lon- 
don; this was highly gratifying, and abundantly more so, 
as I also was included in the invitation. After seeing 
and conversing with me, he sincerely lamented, that he 
had been so far duped by the artful, and designing, as to 
put the disposition of the greater part of his property at 
his decease entirely out of his own power; but what he 
could do, he most cheerfully did. Yet even here we 
were pursued by disappointment. He requested me to 
procure him a capable, sober domestic; and I engaged 
a woman, who, as I believed, answered his description; 
but, proving an artful hussey, she gradually obtained, 



114 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



over the miDd of the old gentleman, an astonishing in- 
fluence, that resulted in a marriage, which effectually pre- 
vented his family connexions from ever again visiting 
him ! Thus were our new-born expectations, from a 
reconciled parent, levelled with the dust. A series of 
calamities succeeded; those whom I had esteemed my 
best, and dearest friends, proved my most inveterate foes, 
and, finding it impossible to reclaim us, from what they 
conceived paths of error, persecuted us with unceasing 
virulence. Presents, bestowed in the day of confidence, 
as tokens of affection, were claimed as legal debts; and 
as the law does not allow presents, I was arrested for the 
amount, betrayed, by my religious friends, into the hands 
of bailiffs, at a time when, had the promised lenity been 
exercised, I could have paid to the utmost farthing. 
Thus heaven thought proper to keep us low; but our 
faith increased, and we cherished that hope, which 
maketh not ashamed; and, even while struggling with 
difficulties, we enjoyed a heaven upon earth. Gradually 
I surmounted the greater part of my difficulties. At the 
house of our brother William, I had an interview with 
our once obdurate you iger brother; he seemed penetrat- 
ed with sorrow for our long-continued estrangement; 
he hung upon my neck, wept bitterly, and expressed a 
fear, that I could never forgive him. I also shed many 
tears, and extending to him the hand of amity, clasped him 
to my bosom, with a most cordial embrace. This was a 
most pleasant circumstance to my beloved Eliza; all now 
seemed delightful. We had a sweet little retirement in 
a rural part of the city; we wanted but little, and our 
wants were all supplied; and perhaps we enjoyed as 
much, as human nature can enjoy. One dear pledge of 
love, a son, whom my wife regarded as the image of his 
father, completed our felicity. But, alas ! this boy was 
lent us no more than one short year ! He expired in the 
arms of his agonized mother, whose health, from that 
fatal moment, began to decline. I was beyond expression 
terrified. Physicians recommended the country; but my 
business confined me in London, and my circumstances 
would not admit of my renting two houses. I took lodg- 
ings at a small distance from town, returning myself 
every day to London. The disorder advanced with ter- 
rific strides; my soul was tortured; every time I ap- 
proached her chamber, even the sigh, which proclaimed 
she still lived, administered a melancholy relief. This 
was indeed a time of sorrow and distress, beyond what I 
had ever before known; I have been astonished how I 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



115 



existed through such scenes. Surely, in every time of 
trouble, God is a very present help. I was obliged to re- 
move the dear creature, during her reduced situation, 
the house in which I had taken lodgings being sold; but 
I obtained for her a situation about four miles from town, 
The scenes around her new lodgings were charming: she 
seemed pleased, and I was delighted. For a few days 
we believed her better, and again I experienced all the 
rapture of hope. My difficulties, however, were many; 
I was necessitated to pass my days in London; could I 
have continued with her, it would have been some relief. 
But as my physician gave me no hope, when I parted 
from her in the morning, I was frequently terrified in the 
dread of meeting death on my return. Often, for my 
sake, did the sweet angel struggle to appear relieved, but, 
alas ! I could discern it was a struggle, and my anguish 
became still more poignant. To add to my distresses, 
poverty came in like a flood. I had my house in town, 
a servant there; the doctor, the apothecary, the nurse, the 
lodgings in the country; every thing to provide; daily 
passing, and repassing. Truly my heart was very sore. 
I was friendless. My religious friends had, on my hear- 
ing and advocating the doctrines, preached by all God's 
holy prophets ever since the world began, become my 
most inveterate foes. Our grandfather was under the do- 
minion of the woman I had introduced to him, who 
had barred his doors against us; the heart of our 
younger brother was again closed, and, as if angry 
with himself for the concessions he had made, was more 
than ever estranged; and even our elder brother, who in 
every situation had for a long season evinced himself my 
faithful friend, had forsaken us ! I had, most indiscreetly, 
ventured to point out some errors in the domestic ar- 
rangements of his wife, which I believed would eventuate 
in his ruin, and he so far resented this freedom, as to 
abandon all intercourse with me. Among Mr. Relly's 
acquaintance, I had no intimates, indeed hardly an ac- 
quaintance; I had suffered so much from religious con- 
nexions, that I had determined, as much as possible, to 
stand aloof, during the residue of my journey through life. 
Thus was I circumstanced, when the fell destroyer of my 
peace aimed his most deadly shafts at the bosom of a be- 
ing, far dearer to me than my existence. My credit fail- 
ing, my wants multiplying, blessed be God, my Eliza was 
ignorant of the extent of my sufferings; she would have 
surrendered up her life, even if she had feared death, 
rather than have permitted an application to either of her 



116 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



brothers; yet was I, by the extremity of my distress, pre- 
cipitated upon a step so humiliating. Stopping at a 
coffee-house near our brother William's, I penned a hur- 
ried line, requesting he would give me an immediate 
meeting; and sending it by a porter, I waited, in agony 
indescribable, its effect. Almost instantaneously he en- 
tered the coffee-house, and, without uttering a word, took 
a seat; nor was I for some moments able to articulate. 
My soul was tortured; he saw it, and could not avoid 
feeling. At length he questioned, c Pray what is the mat- 
ter? 5 Your sister is very near her end, and, were we both 
so, it would be to me cause of exultation, and you would 
have been spared this trouble. My application to you 
will be a sufficient explanation of my circumstances; and 
should you think proper to call upon a once dear, now 
dying sister, I have to request you would not notice my 
having sought this interview, it would embitter the last 
moments of her life. He was amazingly shocked, yet, 
as this was the first syllable he had heard of her indispo- 
sition, he flattered himself my fears had magnified the 
danger; but he assured me, he would see her without de- 
lay. I however desired he would grant me time to pre- 
pare her for his visit; it must, said I, appear entirely 
accidental, and I hastened to our lodgings. I met your 
brother William, my love, who having heard you are in- 
disposed, kindly inquired after you; I think he means to 
visit you. ' If, my precious friend, you have not de- 
scended so low, as to ask any favor of him, I shall be 
glad to see him. 5 I will not, my love, do any thing, 
which I ought not to do. I sat down by her bedside. 
That face upon which strangers had gazed enraptured, 
was now the seat of death 5 s wan harbinger and her strug- 
gles to conceal her sufferings were but too visible. Quit- 
ting the room, I inquired of the nurse, how she had been 
during my absence? She told me, she had endured 
much pain, was very anxious for my return, and express- 
ed a fear, that she should never again behold me. I was 
summoned by the mistress of the house, who was so 
charmed by the deportment of my Eliza, and had con- 
ceived so great an affection for her, as to find it difficult 
to quit her apartment. But my suffering friend, taking 
my hand, and drawing me near her, whispered a wish, 
that we might be alone; I gave the good lady a hint, who 
instantly withdrew. I kneeled by her bedside : she drew 
me closer to her, and throwing her feeble, her emaciated 
arms around my neck she gave me an ardent embrace; I 
was unutterably affected. 5 < Be composed my dear, 5 said 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



117 



she, c and let these precious moments be as calm as possi- 
ble; we may not be allowed another opportunity. Dear 
faithful friend, in life, — in death, dearer to me than my own 
soul, — God reward you for all the kind care you have 
taken of me. ! may my heavenly Father provide some 
one to supply my place, who may reciprocate the kind- 
ness you have shown me. Pray be composed; remember 
we are not at home; that we shall shortly meet in our 
Father's house ' — here she paused — and again resuming 
— c Our parting, when compared with eternity, will be 
but for a moment. What though we have not continued 
together so long as we fondly expected, yet, my love, we 
have had an age of happiness. It is you, my precious 
husband, who are the object of pity. God all gracious 
console, and support you. T3e of good cheer, my love, 
we shall meet in the kingdom of the Redeemer — indeed, 
indeed we shall. 5 Again, she threw her dying arms 
around me; her soul seemed struggling with the magni- 
tude of her emotions. For me, I could not have articu- 
lated a syllable for. the world. It is astonishing I did not 
expire; but there is a time to die. Again, like the 
wasting taper, she seemed to revive. Again with uncom- 
mon energy, she pronounced, upon her almost frenzied 
husband, the most solemn benediction; this brought on a 
cough, she pointed to a phial upon her dressing table. I 
gave her a few drops. 6 There, my best friend, I am 
better — be composed my faithful, my suffering guide, pro- 
tector, husband. Oh! trust in the Lord: let us, my love, 
stay upon the God of our salvation; He will never leave 
us; He will never forsake us 5 — then grasping my hand^ 
she continued: c These moments, my dear are very pre- 
cious; we have had many precious moments; you will 
not go out again, I shall not again lose sight of you* 
You will abide with me, so long as I shall continue 5 — ■ 
I could contain no longer : My suppressed agony became 
audible; she drew me to her: c Do not distress me, 
my love.' — She was deeply affected; her cough came on 
with additional violence. The sound of my voice brought 
in the kind lady of the house; she believed the angel had 
escaped. I requested her, to reach the phial. The ex- 
piring saint motioned it away. c It is too late my love, 3 
she would have added; but utterance instantly failed her, 
and without a single struggle, she breathed her last, still 
holding my hand fast in hers. I was on my knees by her 
bedside, I saw she was breathless, but she still held my 
hand. Ten thousand w r orlds, had I possessed them, I 
would have given, for permission to have accompanied 
11 



118 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



her beatified spirit. I am astonished that I retained my 
reason. Only a few weeks, a few tremendous weeks 
since the commencement of her illness, had rolled on 
when, kneeling in speechless agony by her bedside, I saw 
her breathe her last; she expired without a sigh, without 
a pang, and I was left to the extreme of wretchedness. 
A few moments gave me to reflection — I contemplated 
her form, beautiful even in death; she was now no more 
a sufferer either in body or mind, and, for a little while, I 
derived malignant satisfaction, from the consideration of 
what her brothers would endure, when they found, that, 
in this world, they should no more behold her. I was 
shocked at myself; it seemed as if the sainted spirit mildly 
reproved me; I clasped my hands in agony; I supplicated 
pardon of the deceased, and of her God. It appeared to 
me, I had been deficient in affection, and the idea spoke 
daggers to my soul. Memory cruelly summoned before 
me many instances, in which she might have been obliged 
but distraction was in this thought. I sat in speechless 
agony by her bedside; having locked the door, no one 
could obtain entrance. Almighty God, how unutterable 
were the sorrows of my soul ! ! ! 

1 I was aroused from this state, by the arrival of our 
brother William. He obtained entrance; he glanced 
upon the bed — gazed for a moment — averted his eye, 
— trembled, and became, pale as the face of my lament- 
ed saint — and at length in silent agony, quitted the 
apartment. The good lady of the house now made her 
appearance, and in a tone of sympathy supplicated me 
to retire. The necessary offices were performed, and all 
that remained of my wedded friend was prepared for 
the undertaker, who came by the order of her opulent 
brother: that brother, who had nefariously robbed her 
of her right of inheritance, who contributed so largely, 
while she lived, to her sufferings, and who now endured 
anguish more than equivalent for all the riches of the 
world. A hearse and mourning coaches attended, and 
the dear remains, followed by her brothers and their 
families, were entombed in the family vault. The coach- 
man was directed to convey me, after the interment, to 
the house of our younger brother. He was again a prey 
to contrition and sorrow, and he urged me to cherish 
hope. I assured him, I had nothing to do with hope, at 
least in this world. He made great professions of affec- 
tion, and liberal promises of future kindness: but it was too 
late : and though I believe he was at the time sincere, yet, 
when his strong feelings subsided, he was himself again. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



119 



Here I close another period of my eventful life ! What 
a sad reverse ! A few short weeks since, I was in the 
most enviable circumstances; my situation was charm- 
ing, my dwelling neat and commodious, my wife, the 
object of my souPs devout and sincere affection, her 
lovely offspring swelling the rapture of the scene, a male 
and female domestic attached to our persons^ and faith- 
ful to our interest; and the pleasing hope, that I should 
enjoy a long succession of these delights. Now I was 
alone in the world; no wife, no child, no domestics, no 
home; nothing but the ghosts of my departed joys. In 
religion, and religion only, the last resort of the wretch- 
ed, I found the semblance of repose; religion taught me 
to contemplate the state to which I was hastening; my 
dreams presented my departed Eliza; I saw her in a 
variety of views, but in every view celestial: sometimes 
she was still livings but in haste to be gone; sometimes 
she descended upon my imagination, an heavenly visit- 
ant, commissioned to conduct me home; and so much of 
felicity did I derive from those dreams, that I longed 
for the hour of repose, that I might reiterate the vision- 
ary bliss. 

But new embarrassments awaited me; doctors, apothe- 
caries, grocers, &c. &c, advanced with their bills; yet 
I was not much affected; I was overwhelmed by far 
greater afflictions. My health had greatly suffered. My 
sight, by excess of sorrow, — so said my physician, — was 
almost gone. Often have I traversed George's-Fields, 
where many have met death on the point of the foot-pad's 
dagger, in the mournful hope of meeting a similar fatej 
forgetting, in the state to which I was reduced, that, in 
thus devoting myself to destruction, I indubitably ranked 
with the self-murderer. The eldest brother of my de- 
parted friend continued, from the period of his sister's 
demise, uniformly kind; through his instrumentality, 



mind seemed subdued; it became a fit residence for sor- 
row, when I received a letter from Ireland, written by 
my brother James. Many of our family were numbered 
with the dead; of all her children, my mother had now 
only three surviving sons, and two daughters. My el- 
dest sister was married; and my mother, leaving our 
common property in her care was about to repair with 
her youngest daughter, and two sons, to England. She 
was not apprised of the death of my Eliza. I had written 
her, that I was blest with a most lovely, and exemplary 
companion; but from the death of my son, and the far- 



many of my most pressing debts 




LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ther, and entire prostration of my terrestrial happiness, I 
had suspended my communications. I was now again 
necessitated to take a house; my mother, and my brothers 
resided with me; and my sister with a lady, to whom she 
had been introduced in Ireland. She soon after married, 
and, as I believed imprudently, and I saw her no more. 
I now lived a mournful life; the world appeared to me in 
a very different point of view from what it had formerly 
done; yet I derived ecstatic pleasure from my views of 
revelation. William Neale became convinced of the 
truth, as it is in Jesus; and, of course, an adherent of 
Mr. Relly. This soothed me, and the word of God 
was an abiding consolation. To a few individuals I was 
made the messenger of peace; but my mother, and my 
brother James, remained inveterate opposers of the doc- 
trines I had embraced. I sometimes visited the tabernacle, 
and, conceiving an affection for all men, I had a kind 
of satisfaction in standing in the midst of my brethren. 
It was at the tabernacle I was informed, that a poor, un- 
happy, widowed woman, sister to a man whom I had 
loved, was in most deplorable circumstances; she had 
been deceived by a villain; her kindred had been made 
acquainted with her situation, but their indignation was 
kindled against her; they would not see her; and her 
religious connexions abandoned her, while she was suf- 
fering all the miseries of want, accompanied by her own 
agonizing reflections. I discovered her in a miserable 
room; no glass in the windows, no fire in the chimney* 
she was laying on something which had been a bed; a 
child, of a few days old in her bosom, but no nourish- 
ment for it; another child dead by her side, and a third 
apparently dying. Upon my entrance she covered her 
face with her hands. c I know you, sir; you are come to 
upbraid me; yes, I deserve it all; but by and by my 
measure will be full.. 5 " I burst into tears. I come to up- 
braid you? God forbid. No, poor sufferer; I am come 
a messenger from that God, who giveth liberally and up- 
braideth not. Be of good cheer; you have still a Father, 
who loves you with an everlasting love, and he has sent 
me to comfort you; he has seen your affliction, and he 
has bid me relieve you. 

This seemed too much for the poor, forlorn creature; 
she appeared in the moment of expiring. I ran out of 
the house, into a shop at the corner of the alley, the mis 
tress of which was, to my knowledge, perfectly ac- 
quainted with the situation of the sufferer. I demanded, 
why she thus neglected a human being ? 6 Ah, the 



3LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 121 

wretched creature, she deserves this and more, 5 was this 
good woman's reply. But although neither the love of 
God, nor of human nature, could move this hard-hearted 
woman, I had that in my pocket, which possessed, for 
her, an irresistible charm; and at the hazard of my re- 
putation, I bade her procure coal, a restorative cordial, 
and a blanket to cover the sufferer. I then proceeded 
to the dwelling of a lady, one of Mr. Relly's congregation, 
to whom I had recently been introduced; I represented 
the situation, in which, in the midst of an opulent city, 
I had discovered a fellow creature. The lady was ex- 
tremely affected, and her aid was instantaneous. The 
next day, Sunday, I again visited the poor penitent, 
whom I found relieved and comforted. She requested 
me, with many tears, to put up a note for her in the ta- 
bernacle. There happened, on that day, to preach in the 
tabernacle, a Mr. Edwards, whom I had formerly known 
in connexion with Mr. Wesley. I presented a note in 
the following words: The prayers of this congregation 
are requested in behalf of a widow indeed, confined to 
a bed of sickness, without property and encompassed by 
the dying and the dead. I attended again the tabernacle 
in the evening, and when the sermon closed, Mr. Edwards 
said: c If the person be here, who put up the note this 
morning, in behalf of a widow indeed, I should be glad 
to speak with him in the vestry. 5 Accordingly presenting 
myself, I was very cordially received by Mr. Edwards, 
who observed., he was happy I was the person; that his 
feelings had been greatly affected by the note; that he 
had read it to a lady, at whose house he had dined, who, 
putting two guineas into his hand, requested him, if pos- 
sible, to find out the widow indeed, and bestow them upon 
her. I conveyed this little sum to the sorrowing woman, 
with feelings, which those who know how to sympathize 
with the unfortunate will easily understand; and I assur- 
ed the poor mourner, that the God who gives and forgives, 
had sent her another proof of his favor. Arise, said I, 
forlorn sufferer, and sin no more. I had the charge of 
the ehild 5 s funeral; the other recovered. The mother 
was soon abroad, and continued, ever after, to conduct 
with exemplary propriety. This instance, among a thou-? 
sand others, proves, that faith in the promises is the 
best stimulus to that pure and undefiled religion, which 
consists in relieving the oppressed of every description; 
and with gratitude I confess, that this pure and undefiled 
religion was, to me, a never-failing source of con sola-? 
tion, I was full of the gospel; gladly would I have sa^ 
11* 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



crificed my life, if I might thus have brought all men 
acquainted with the riches of the grace of the gospel of 
God our Saviour; and my soul was often wrought up 
to a degree of ecstasy, by the views, exhibited to my 
understanding, in the pages of divine revelation. Yes, 
I have experienced, that a belief of the truth disposes 
the mind to love God, and to do good to man; and so 
greatly was my heart affected by the plan of redemption, 
that I have, in the midst of the streets of London, been 
so entranced in contemplating its glories, that I have only 
been awakened to recollection, by the jostling crowd, who 
wondered as they passed; yet, while in the fulness of 
my heart, I embraced every opportunity of expatiating 
upon the great salvation; every thing beside had lost the 
power to charm, or even tranquillize, and the tortur- 
ing sensations I experienced, from reflecting upon past 
times, were not to be expressed: Death had for me an 
angel's face, and I viewed this sometimes king of terrors 
as my emancipating friend. 

The forbearance of my creditors was at length exhaust- 
ed. Debts crowded upon me. Demands, which I was 
utterly unable to answer, were continually made. Had 
the health of my lovely wife been continued, I was in a 
very fine way. Her sickness, her death, by dashing from 
me the cup of felicity, while expenses accumulated, 
debilitated my mind, and rendered me unequal to those 
efforts, which my exigences required. In the midst of 
my supineness, I was taken by a writ, and borne to a 
spunging-house. My sensations were, on this occasion, 
very different from those which I had formerly experien- 
ced, in a similar situation; and I derived, from the 
expected seclusion, a kind of melancholy pleasure. The 
officer was astonished at my apathy; I refused sustenance; 
I had no inclination for food. I would swallow nothing 
but water. I would have no bed: a bed must be paid for, 
and I was pennyless. I slept on the floor of a room, 
hung with cobwebs, the windows of which were secured 
by iron bars. I prayed most fervently to Him, with 
whom are the issues of life and death, that, as He had 
not allowed his creatures the privilege of departing out 
of time, when, and how they pleased, He would gra- 
ciously vouchsafe to grant me my deliverance from a 
world, where I could serve neither my God, my neighbor, 
nor myself. But, alas! as I have often found, death 
comes not at call. The barred windows admitted just 
light enough to announce the return of day, s»»on after 
which, the keeper unlocked the door, and in a surly man- 



LIFE OF RE\. JOHN MURRAY. 123 

ner, asked me how I did! Indifferent, sir, I replied. 
6 By G — , I think so ! but, sir, give me leave to tell you, 
I am not indifferent, and if you do not very soon settle 
with your creditors, I shall take the liberty to lodge you 
in Newgate. I keep nobody in my house that does not 
spend any thing, damn-me. I cannot keep house, and 
pay rent, and taxes for nothing. When a gentleman 
behaves civil, I behave civil; but, damn-me, if they are 
sulky, why then, do ye see, I can be sulky too; so, sir, 
you had better tell me what you intend to do ?' Nothing. 
c Nothing? damn-me, that's a good one; then, by G — , 
you shall soon see I will do something, that you will not 
very well like. 5 He then turned upon his heel, drew the 
door with a vengeance, and double-locked it. Soon after 
this, his helpmate presented herself, and began to apolo- 
gize for her husband; said he was very quick; hoped I 
would not be offended, for he was a ver}^ good man in the 
main; that she believed there never was a gentleman in 
that house, (and she would be bold to say, there had 
been as good gentlemen there, as in any house in London) 
who had ever any reason to complain of his conduct. 
He would wait upon any of my friends, to whom I should 
think fit to send him, and do all in his power to make 
matters easy; c and if you please, sir, you are welcome 
to come down into the parlor and breakfast with me. 5 
And pray, my good lady, where are you to get your pay ? 
c O, I will trust to that, sir; I am sure you are a gentle- 
man; do, sir, come down and breakfast; you will be 
better after breakfast. Bless your soul, sir, why there 
have been hundreds, who settled their affairs, and did 
very well afterwards.' I was prevailed upon to go down 
to breakfast. There was, in the centre of the entry, a 
door half way up, with long pikes; every window was 
barred with iron; escape was impossible; and indeed I 
had no wish to escape : a kind of mournful insensibility 
pervaded my soul, for which I was not then disposed to 
account, but which I have since regarded as an instance 
of divine goodness, calculated to preserve my little 
remains of health, as well as that reason, which had 
frequently tottered in its seat. To the impertinent prattle 
of the female turnkey I paid no attention, but, nastily 
swallowing a cup of tea, I retired to my prison. This 
irritated her; she expected I would have tarried below, 
and as is the custom, summoned my friends, who, whether 
they did any thing for my advantage or not, would, by 
calling for punch, wine, &c. &c, unquestionably contrib- 
ute to the advantage of the house. But as I made no 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAf . 



proposal of this kind, nor indeed ever intended so to do y 
they saw it was improbable they should reap any benefit 
by or from me; and having given me a plentiful share of 
abuse, and appearing much provoked that they could not 
move me to anger, they were preparing to carry me to 
Newgate, there to leave me among other poor, desperate 
debtors; and their determination being thus fixed, I was 
at liberty to continue in my gloomy apartment, and, w hat 
I esteemed an especial favor, to remain there uninter- 
rupted. I received no invitation either to dinner, tea, or 
supper; they just condescended to inform me, when they 
came to lock me in, that I should have another lodging 
the ensuing night; to which I made no reply. My 
spirits, however, sunk in the prospect of Newgate. 
There, I was well informed, 1 could not be alone; there, 
i knew, my associates would many of them be atrocious 
offenders, and I was in truth immeasurably distressed. 
It was now, that every argument, which I had ever read 
in favor of suicide, was most officiously obtruded upon 
my mind, and warmly impressed upon my imagination. 
It was stated, that my Almighty Father could not be 
angry with me for leaving such a world, in such circum- 
stances; the opposition of reason seemed to result from 
the prejudices of education; 6 and,' said illusive fancy, 
c as it is appointed for all men once to die, to do that to- 
day, which I may do to-morrow, and what I must shortly 
do, cannot be very wrong. 5 # It is true, my monitor 
assured me, that the God, who had created me, was the 
only proper judge of the exact moment, when I ought to 
be removed out of time; that He best knew what benefit 
might accrue to myself, or the community, by my longer 
continuance in this vale of tears; yet these remarks, with 
many more of the same description, were not sufficiently 
imposing to endow me with resolution still to c abide the 
pelting of the pitiless storm; 9 and I determined to finish 
my wretched existence before the dawning of another 
morning. This was indeed a night of horror; but, in the 
moment of executing my fatal, my God-dishonoring 
purpose, the image of my Eliza, irradiating the prison 
walls, seemed to stand before me. She appeared as if 

* The author here alludes to a passage, than which no one is more 
frequently misquoted, or misapplied. The text from which this is 
taken is Heb. ix. 27, which ought always to be read in connexion with 
the three preceding verses, and the one following. Should this be 
done, it would evidently appear that the apostle was speaking of the 
death of the high priest ' by blood of others/ and not of the death 
which is the common lot of all mankind. Compare it with Chap. vii. 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



125 



commissioned by Heaven to soothe my tortured spirit. 
I prostrated myself before the perhaps imaginary vision, 
and, for the first moment since 1 had occupied this dreary 
abode, my heart softened, and a shower of tears came to 
my relief; yea, and I was relieved. My soul became 
calm, and although every hope from this world was 
extinct in my bosom, yet I believed I should be better 
able to accommodate myself, to whatever sufferings the 
Almighty might think proper to inflict. I passed the 
remainder of the night in endeavoring to fortify my 
mind; a pleasing melancholy took possession of my spirit 
I drew consolation from remembering, the time of suf 
fering was not long; that there was a rest, a life of 
uninterrupted felicity beyond the grave; that of this rest, 
this life, no power on the earth could deprive me; and 
that I ought therefore quietly to wait, and patiently to 
hope, for the salvation of my God. Thus, although my 
night had been sleepless, my mind became so calm, and 
my spirit so greatly refreshed, that when the keeper 
opened the door in the morning, to inform me, that in 
three hours he should lodge me in Newgate, I answered 
with unaffected composure : I am ready, sir. 

In less than an hour, however, I had a new source of 
inquietude. My brother, William Neale, having received 
a hint of the arrest, had searched from place to place, 
until at length finding me, with tears of sympathy he 
reproached me, even in the presence of the woman, for 
not immediately summoning him to my reUef. This 
female turnkey, observing the appearance of my brother, 
and the feeling manner, in which he addressed me, began 
to hope, notwithstanding what she had termed my ob- 
stinacy, that they should reap some benefit from me after 
all. c Why, 5 said William, c did you not send for me 
immediately upon your entering this house; 5 c Ay, dear 
S sir, so I said: why, dear sir, said I, cannot you send for 
some of your friends? for I know 5 d as how, the gentle- 
man had many friends, and my husband would have 
gone himself to any part of the town, with all his soul. 
No one can ever say, that we were backward, in doing 
every thing in our power to serve and oblige every gentle- 
man that ever came into our house : and, though I say it, 
that should not say it, I believe there is not a house, in 
our way, in London, that has ever had more good people 
in it, as a body may say, than ours; and, says I, Lord, 
sir, says 1, you need not for to make yourself uneasy; it 
is no crime, says I, to be in difficulty, or the like of that; 
the best people in the world, says I, are in the greatest 



126 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAT. 



difficulties, says I; I am sure, I have had my share of 
troubles and difficulties in this world, says I; but I had 
better, says I, have them here, than in a worse place; I 
hope, 1 shall atone for all my sins here. 5 Thus did this 
creature's tongue run, and would have continued so to do, 
had not my brother asked 5 if I had breakfasted? c Ay, 
sir, I am glad to hear you say something of that. The 
poor gentleman has not seemed to care anything about 
eating or drinking: for my part, I was frightened, in the 
dread of the poor gentleman's dying- in the house; 1 
would have urged him over and over again; but said I, 
may be he will think as how, that I mean my own inter- 
est, and so I did not care to say much about it; but, sir, 
the poor gentleman can't think you have any interest.' 
4 Get breakfast, ma'am.' 'Tea or coffee, gentleman?' 
6 Both, ma'am, and, do you hear, let us have a private 
room.' c Yes, sir.' When left alone, my friend, and 
brother, again reproached me for delaying my communi- 
cations to him. I frankly told him, that I was so far from 
being disposed to solicit his aid, that I seriously regretted 
he had discovered me; that I had no wish to involve 
my friends in my difficulties; that I would much rather 
continue a prisoner, for the remainder of my life, than 
incur obligations, which I had no prospect of discharging. 
£ Poh, poll,' said he, 4 this is idle talk. You cannot 
believe, you would be the only sufferer from your continu- 
ing endurance.' But I should not suffer long. c You 
know not how long, however, drop the subject, here is 
breakfast; sit you down, and let us breakfast together; 
we will resume our subject by and by. 5 Yes, William, 
we will resume our subject, by and by; but suffer me to 
observe, you shall not come under bonds on my account, 
neither shall you discharge my debts; consent to this 
stipulation, or I touch no breakfast. c Pshaw, pshaw, 
how whimsical; but eat your breakfast, man: I promise, 
I will do neither*' We then breakfasted in peace, and I 
derived a mournful kind of pleasure, from the assurance, 
that I should not involve the brother of Eliza in my ruin. 
But, how great was my astonishment, when he ordered 
in the officer, who was also master of the house, when, 
after demanding and discharging his bill, he produced a 
receipt in full from my creditor, and a complete discharge 
for me. Thus was I liberated from the fangs of these 
harpies, and I accompanied this commisserating brother 
to his hospitable mansion, where he related to me the 
means, by which he had discovered me. 

Quitting this noble-minded friend, I hastened home to 
my suffering mother, who was in agonies on my account; 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



127 



ignorant where I was, or what was my situation, her 
apprehensions were of the most fearful kind. We ming- 
led our tears, while she most affectionately endeavored 
to soothe me, and to bind Up my broken heart; but my 
only remaining hope was, that, in this distempered state, 
I had not long to suffer. But, alas! here also I was 
deceived; long, very long have I continued, and with 
heart-felt sorrow, to tread this thorny maze. The broth- 
ers of my departed angel combined to help me forward; 
many plans were proposed for me; a sum of money was 
hired to place me, as a partner, in a mercantile house, 
and my brothers were my bondsmen! I detested the 
thought of new prospects from such a world as this, but, 
to my beloved William, I was largely in debt; he had a 
growing family, and both gratitude 3 as well as justice, 
demanded I should make every offort for his remunera- 
tion. Thus I again became a melancholy man of 
business. It was supposed the road, not only to com- 
petency, but to affluence, was open before me, and I 
was pronounced in flourishing circumstances. It was, for 
those who loved me, a pleasing dream; but soon the 
golden vision vanished, and I awoke to the certainty of 
its being no more than a dream. 

Again I returned to my lonely dwelling; pleased with 
the thought, that my solitude would no more be inter- 
rupted; again I detested the world, and all which it 
could bestow. Thus a few more melancholy months 
roiled mournfully away, and I expected to finish my days 
in the retirement, to which I was devoted. One con- 
sideration, however, still pressed heavily upon my mind. 
The very considerable sums, for which I was indebted to 
my generous brother, was, to me, a mighty burden; and 
this beloved brother, availing himself of my anxiety on 
this account, once more set me afloat. Many were the 
efforts, to which I consented; great were my mental 
sacrifices. But one expedient remained; it was a mourn- 
ful expedient. I will not delineate; I pause; I throw a 
veil over many revolving months; let it suffice to say, 
my purpose was gained, my debts were paid, my pecuni- 
ary circumstances easy; but this was all. How mysteri- 
ous are the ways of heaven ! how many torturing scenes 
I have passed through! But, blessed be God, I have 
passed through them. Thanks be to the Father of 
mercies, they can no more be reiterated: My newly ac- 
quired competency possessed no charms for me; I derived 
no satisfaction from anything around me. In fact, I had 
nothing in prospect, and hope seemed to have expired in 
my bosom. 



128 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



CHAPTER V. 

The bereaved man, quitting his native shores, embarke 
for America; indulging the fond hope of sequestering him- 
self in the solitude, for which he sighed. But contrary 
to his expectations, a series of circumstances combine to 
produce him a Promulgator of the Gospel of God> our 
Saviour. 

Death's sable pall o'er all my pleasures thrown, 
My native isle to me a desert grown ; 
Sad and forlorn , to the new world I fled, 
Amid its wilds to shield my widowed head. 

Having, as has been described, laid the companion of 
my youth, the wife of my bosom, in the grave; my spirit 
still hovered round her tomb. It has been seen, that my 
life seemed devoted to misery; that I wept at all times, 
except when I turned my attention to that bright world, 
upon which, I imagined, I was verging; that I wished the 
act of putting a period to a weary life had ranked among 
the Christian virtues; that I never more passionately 
longed for any good, than for the period, which was to 
put an end to my existence; that I had but few acquaint- 
ance, that I wished not to form new connexions; that I 
was sick of the world, and all which it could bestow; that 
the retirement of my lonely dwelling was most acceptable 
to me; that I abhorred the thought of expecting any thing 
like happiness in this world; and, that I thus passed 
weeks and months, verily believing, that I should thus 
finish my days, which, I cherished a soothing hope, would 
soon be numbered. 

Through those sad scenes of sorrow, to which I was 
condemned, I had one friend, one earthly friend, from 
whom I derived real consolation. This friend was Mr, 
James Relly, the man who had been made an instrument, 
in the hand of God, of leading me into an acquaintance 
with the truth, as it is in Jesus. This kind friend often 
visited me; and in conversing with him, I found my 
heart lightened of its burden; I could better bear the 
pitiless storm, that beat upon me, when strengthened by 
the example of this son of sorrow; we frequently con- 
versed upon the things of the kingdom, and Mr. Relly, 
observing my heart much warmed and enlarged by these 
subjects, urged me to go forth, and make mention of 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 129 

the loving-kindness of God. No, no, I constantly replied, 
it is not my design again to step forth in a public charac- 
ter. I have been a promulgator of falsehood. c And why 
not,' he would interrupt, c a promulgator of truth ? Sure- 
ly you owe this atonement to the God, who hath irrad- 
iated your understanding by the light of his counte- 
nance. 3 But no argument, he made use of, was suf- 
ficiently strong to excite in my bosom a single wish, that 
I had either inclination or capability, for a character so 
arduous; my heart's desire was to pass through life, 
unheard, unseen, unknown to all, as though I ne'er had 
been. I had an aversion to society, and, since I could 
not be permitted to leave the world, I was solicitous to 
retire from its noise and its nonsense; I was indeed a 
burden to myself and no advantage to any body else; 
every place, every thing served to render me more mis- 
erable, for they led my mind to the contemplation of past 
scenes, of scenes never more to return. Such was the 
situation of my mind, when, at the house of one of Mr. 
Relly's hearers, I accidentally met a gentleman from 
America. I listened with attention to his account of the 
country, in which he had so long resided; I was charmed 
with his description of its extent, its forests, its lakes, 
its rivers; its towns its inhabitants, the liberty they en- 
joyed, and the peace and plenty, which they possessed; 
I listened to every thing with astonishment; and I turned 
toward the new world my most ardent wishes. I com- 
municated my desire to visit America to my mother, to 
my brethren. I was ridiculed for entertaining a project 
so chimerical. What, cross the Atlantic! For what 
purpose? To whom would I go? What could I do? 
What object could I have in view? I was unable to 
answer any of these questions; I had not a single acquaint- 
ance in America, indeed I had no wish to make ac- 
* quaintance; I had nothing in prospect, but a kind of 
negative happiness; I did not mean to commence a voy- 
age in pursuit of bliss, but to avoid, if possible, a part of 
my misery. 

My mind for a considerable time labored with my pur- 
pose; many difficulties interposed, I would infinitely have 
prefered entering that narrow house which is appointed 
for all living, but this I was not permitted to do; and I con- 
ceived, to quit England and to retire to America, was the 
next thing to be desired. Nights and days of deliberation 
at length convinced my judgment, and I was determined to 
depart for the new world. My few friends urged me most 
earnestly to let them apply to those, who had connexions 



130 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



in America, for letters of introduction, or recommendation 
No, by no means, this would most effectually defeat my 
purpose; I would rather not go, than go thus^ My ob- 
ject was to close my life in solitude, in the most complete 
retirement and with those views I commenced prepara- 
tions for my voyage. I visited the brother of my departed 
wife, and 1 beheld both him, and his children, with the 
same eyes a dying person would have beheld them; tears 
frequently stole down my face, and a thousand thoughts 
that served to harrow up my soul, crowded upon me. 
I was determined not to repeat this scene, and I bid them 
adieu; could I have done this upon a bed of death, how 
much happier should I have been I 

The place I now occupied, to which I had recently 
removed, was extremely beautiful; it was in the vi- 
cinity of London. I had a fine garden, and a delight- 
ful prospect; but my better self had fled this globe, and 
with her fled my soul's calm sunshine every heart-felt 
joy. I was, as I have frequently said, extremely wretch- 
ed; I spake to the master of a vessel, bound to New- 
York; I agreed for my passage; my heart trembled; it 
was worse than death. He fixed the time for my de- 
parture; every arrangement was made. My brother, 
my widowed mother, I met them in my parlor; it was 
torturing. c Sit down, my son, 5 said my weeping parent; 
my brother appeared a silent spectacle of sorrow: C I 
know you my child, too well to expect I can alter your 
resolution; it is now too late to beseech you to reflect; 
1 know you have long reflected, and I am astonished to find 
you still determined. You have a charming situation; 
your prospects are good; could you but make your mind 
easy, you might still be happy; why, then, this aversion 
to life? 5 I interrupted her, by declaring, that the whole 
world would not, could not detain me longer in England; 
yet I passionately loved my country, and my few remain- 
ing friends shared the best affections of my heart. This 
voluntary exile was worse than death; but I was impelled 
to go, and go I must. My poor mother threw her fond arms 
about my neck: Once more, 5 said she c you leave me, 
but not now, as before, then you left me in my native 
place, among my natural connexions; then too I had hope 
you would again be restored to me — but now 5 — and she 
burst into tears; my heart was agonized. I entreated 
her to consider me as on the bed of death. Nor again 
to think of me, as of a living son. Be thankful my mother, 
be thankful it is no worse; be thankful I have not fallen 
a victim to the despondency of my spirit. I leave you 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 131 

with your children, with children kind and dutiful; and, 
what is better than all, I leave you in the hands and under 
the care of a kind God, who hath said, I will never leave 
you, nor forsake you. 6 But shall I hear from you, my 
son?' Do not, I entreat of you, think of me, as living; 
I go to bury myself in the wilds of America; no one shall 
hear from me, nor of me. I have done with the world; 
and, prostrating myself in the presence of my mother 
and my God, with streaming eyes, and supplicating hands, 
I commended my soul, and all who were connected with 
me, or allied to me, to that Being, who orders all things 
according to his own good pleasure. ? 

I left my mother in an agony of affliction, and mired, 
but not to rest. My baggage had been sent on board ship 
in the morning, and, accompanied by my brother, we took 
a boat and passed down to Grave's-End, where I en- 
tered on board the vessel, that was to convey me to 
America, which, in my then judgment, was tantamount 
to quitting the world. 

The vessel, however did not sail immediately; I had 
an opportunity of going on shore again, and spending 
some time at Grave's-End. Fond of being alone, I as- 
cended a lofty eminence, and sat me down under the 
shade of a wide spreading tree; here I had leisure, and 
inclination for reflection. On one hand, I beheld the 
wide ocean, my path to the new world; on the other, the 
Thames, upon the silvery surface of which, many were 
passing to London. My mind rapidly run over the vari- 
ous scenes I had witnessed, since my arrival in that great 
city. I dwelt upon the good I had lost, never more to be 
recovered. My soul sickened at the recollection of my 
heavy bereavement, of the solitary situation, to which I 
was reduced. I was going from a world in which I had 
some associates, and some friends, into a country where 
every individual was unknown to me ! I was going on 
board a vessel, to the crew of which I was an utter stran- 
ger — all gloomy — truly gloomy. One idea however con- 
tinued my abiding consolation, I might soon finish my 
course, and bid an eternal adieu to sorrow of every descrip- 
tion. Yet I trembled at what was before me; I was fear- 
ful I was wrong. Just at this period the wind shifted, the 
signal was made for sailing; but before I descended the em- 
inence, I once more threw my eyes upon the surrounding 
scenes. I felt destitute and forlorn; tears gushed in my 
eyes. My domestic felicity, my social connexions, the 
pleasure I had derived from listening to the testimony of 
truth these all rushed upon my recollection, with subduing 



1S£ LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

power; I prostrated myself upon the ground, with stream- 
ing eyes exclaiming : Oh, thou dear parent earth, thou 
much loved native soil, why not open, and give me a 
quiet resting place in thy bosom. Oh! thou dear, de- 
parted friend of my soul, hast thou no power to loose 
these chains, that bind me to this state of being. Is 
there no eye to pity, no hand to help a wretched outcast? 
can I not be indulged with death ? But death comes not 
at call. In this situation I continued bedewing the earth 
with my tears, until it pleased the kind God to speak 
peace to my tortured heart, and I seemed to hear a voice 
calling unto me, Be of good cheer, your God is with 
you, He will never leave you, nor forsake you; He is in 
the wide waste, as in the full city. Be not afraid, when 
thou passest through the waters; I will be with thee, 
fear no evil; the friend of sinners will be with thee, and 
make thy way plain before thee; He will cause the desert 
to blossom as the rose. The young lions cry, and thy 
heavenly Father feedeth them. Thou art nearer and 
dearer to thy heavenly Father, than all the inhabitants of 
the deep, than all the tenants of the forest. Thus did 
the spirit of grace and consolation comfort my afflicted 
heart, so that, after bidding an affectionate adieu to the 
scenes of the morning and meridian of my days; after 
taking what I believed an eternal leave of my native 
soil, of my friends, and relatives; after dropping many 
tears to the memory of each; and, last of all to the ashes 
of my dear self; with an aching head, a pained heart, 
and eyes swelled by weeping, on Saturday evening, July 
twenty-first, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven 
hundred and seventy, I hastened on board the brig 
( Hand in hand; 5 and, upon the ensuing morning, as we 
passed round Beachy Head, I beheld the white cliffs of 
Albion. No language can describe my sensations, as 
those white cliffs receded from my view, as I took a last 
look of England! I retired to my cabin, covered my 
face, and wept until I was completely exhausted. But 
God was pleased to lift up the light of his countenance 
upon me; my voyage passed more pleasantly, than I had 
calculated, and I was the happy instrument of contribut- 
ing to the comfort of many on board. I was not sick 
upon the passage; I became more than reconciled to my 
circumstances, and I almost dreaded the thought of reach- 
ing my destined port. 

I did not anticipate my fate upon my arrival; I had de- 
termined upon nothing, and yet I was not distressed; a 
perfect indifference pervaded my soul. I had in my 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 133 

trunks many articles of clothing, more than I should 
want; for I did not calculate upon being many years an 
inhabitant of this globe. I had some money, I had my 
Bible, and a very large collection of the letters of my 
Eliza, in which I took much delight; and, upon the 
whole, I fancied myself rather rich, than otherwise. 
In this state of resignation, indifference, or insensibility, 
I passed the greater part of the voyage. 

As we drew near the coast of America, I experienced 
none of those delightful sensations, which swelled my 
bosom, a few years before, on returning to England from 
Ireland; neither did I experience those terrifying appre- 
hensions, for which there was such abundant reason, on 
advancing to an unknown country, without patron, or 
friend. My mind was calm and unruffled, neither elated 
by hope, nor depressed by fear I had obtained precisely 
that situation, for which I had supplicated heaven, when 
entering upon this untried state of being, humbly depend- 
ing upon that God, who was in every place the same un- 
changeing friend of the creature, whom he had made. I 
was, as it were, between two worlds; one I had tried, 
and, finding it contained more of bitter, than of sweet, I 
had turned from it with disgust. I advanced toward the 
other, without high raised expectations, without fearful 
apprehensions. I was pleased with the wonders of my 
God, as I beheld them in the great deep; I was amazed 
at the variety of its inhabitants, yet how small a part 
could I trace. I was astonished at the number of birds, 
flitting over the ocean; and I thought if provision was 
made for them, I had no reason for fear. On a brilliant 
moonlight evening, our ship struck on something, which 
threw us off our seats! What could it be? we were in 
the centre of the Western ocean. We soon discovered it 
was a sleeping whale; we also beheld the water-spout, so 
often described, as a surprising phenomenon. Thus 
was my wondering mind beguiled of its sorrows. We saw 
a number of vessels on our way, some passing to the coun- 
try we had left; my heart signed, as they pursued their 
course, and I frequently, and audibly exclaimed, Dear 
native country, never more to be seen by me ! nor was 
the exclamation unaccompanied by a tear. 

We were, as it was supposed, within three days sail of 
New York, when we met a vessel, bound for England. 
Our merchant questioned the captain, respecting the state 
of public affairs in America. The Americans had, some 
time before, entered into the non-importation agreement, 
and our merchant was anxious, on account of the goods 



134 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



he had on board* The captain assured him, they had 
given up the agreement in Philadelphia, but that they 
zealously adhered to it in New York. Our captain, 
therefore, received immediate orders, to change the course 
of the vessel for Philadelphia; but when we had got near 
enough to this harbor to take a pilot, the pilot informed 
us, the reverse of the information we had received was 
the truth; upon which the merchant determined to go as 
far as the city, there obtain a certainty, and if so, to pro- 
ceed to New York, with all possible despatch. We were 
a considerable time passing up the Delaware, and, upon 
a fine day, while we lay at anchor, the merchant pro- 
posed going on shore, for the purpose of ubtaining corn 
and fruit. \ 
It was in the month of September, when we arrived in 
the Delaware : the country, upon the banks of this fine 
river, exhibited a most enchanting appearance, especial- 
ly to those, who had been for many weeks out of sight of 
land, and had never seen those shores before. As we 
drew near the land, the woods, seeming to grow out of 
the water, had to me a very uncommon appearance; but 
every thing, in this country, was uncommon. We went 
on shore, and ascended a gentle acclivity, when, entering 
into a small log-house, I was astonished to see a woman 
preparing some excellent wild ducks for dinner; live in a 
log-house, and feed upon ducks ! We passed into her 
garden, where, amid its rich variety, my attention was 
arrested by a large peach-tree, loaded with the best fruit, 
bending to the earth ! I was beyond expression charmed, 
and delighted, and my heart beat with grateful affection 
to the universal Parent, for giving the inhabitants of this 
new world thus liberally to enjoy. When we reached 
Philadelphia, I was amazed to behold a city of such mag- 
nitude, in a country, which I had considered, as a wilder 
ness. The captain supposed it a disappointment to me, 
that we had not put into New York, as that was the 
place of my destination; I requested him to make himself 
easy, as it was a matter of perfect indifference to me 
upon what part of the country I landed; and, if he could 
procure me a private lodging, I would go on shore in this 
city. This he told me he would do, but this he could 
not do, at least in the circle of his connexions. He then 
proposed my going, by land, to New York. This also I 
whs willing to do, if he would let me know how. He 
would send and take me a place in the stage. The stage 
hail been gone some time. He then proposed I should 
tarry in the vessel, and set out with him the next morning 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



135 



for New York, to which arrangement I agreed. The 
other passengers left us in Philadelphia. The water 
was smooth, and our passage pleasant, until we were, as 
was supposed, near Sandy-Hook; a dense fog then arose, 
which was sufficiently thick to prevent our seeing the end 
of our bowsprit. A sloop shot past us, and we inquired 
how far we were from Sandy-Hook? The answer was 
seventy miles, but we understood seven, and we pressed 
on, and in a few moments were in the midst of the break- 
ers; the vessel struck upun the bar, but passed over, into 
a place we afterwards learned was called Cranberry 
Inlet. The fog now dispersed, and we discovered we 
were nearly on shore; our anchors, however, saved us; 
but we were greatly alarmed, and never expected to get 
off again. The sloop, with which we had spoken, en- 
tered this Inlet before us, and was light. The captain 
proposed to engage this sloop to receive on board as 
much of our cargo as she could contain : thus, by lighten- 
ing his vessel, to give himself the only probable chance 
of getting off. This was effectuated, and night coming 
on, the captain, with many apologies, requested me to 
lodge on board the sloop, inasmuch as there were many 
valuable articles, which he was afraid to trust, without a 
confidential person. To this I readily consented, and 
taking my Bible, and my purse, I went on board the 
sloop. The plan of the captain was, supposing the 
morning should present no prospect of getting off, to 
deposit the remainder of his cargo upon the beach; but, 
if they should get off, we were immediately to follow; the 
goods were to be replaced; and the sloop dismissed. I 
went not to bed, and when the morning dawned, just at 
high water, the wind blowing from the shore, they got 
off, making a signal for us to follow; and with all possi- 
ble despatch we prepared to obey, but the wind instantly 
shifting drove us back, and they proceeded on to New 
York, leaving us in the bay. 

It proved upon examination, we had no provisions on 
board; we were, therefore, necessitated to lock up the 
vessel, and go on shore, in search of sustenance. It was 
the after part of the day before we could effectuate our 
purpose, when I went with the boatmen to a tavern, and 
leaving them there, pursued a solitary walk through the 
woods, which seemed to surround this place. My mind 
was greatly agitated; I was now in the new world; and in 
just such a part of this new world, as had appeared so 
desirable in prospect. Here I was as much alone, as I 
could wish, and my heart exclaimed; £ O, thai I had in 



136 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



this wilderness, the lodging place of a poor way-faring 
man; some cave, some grot, someplace where I might finish 
my days in calm repose. As thus I passed alone, thus 
contemplating, thus supplicating; I unexpectedly reached 
a small log-house, and saw a girl cleaning a fresh fish; I 
requested she would sell it to me. c No, sir, you will 
find a very great plenty at the next house; we want this. 5 
The next house, what this? pointing to one in the woods. 
1 O no, sir, that is a meeting-house.' A meeting-house 
here in these woods? I was exceedingly surprised. 
( You must pass the meeting-house, sir; and a little way 
farther on, you will see the other house, where you will 
find fish enough. 5 I went forward, I came to the door; 
there was indeed a large pile of fish of various sorts, and 
at a little distance stood a tall man, rough in appearance 
and evidently advanced in years: Pray, sir, will you have 
the goodness to sell me one of those fish? c No, sir. 5 
That is strange, when you have so many, to refuse me a 
single fish ! £ I did not refuse you a fish, sir; you are 
welcome to as many as you please, but I do not sell this 
article; I do not sell fish, sir, I have them for taking up, 
and you may obtain them the same way. 5 I, thanked 
him: c But, 5 said he, c what do you want of those fish? 5 
I informed him, that the mariners, who belonged to the 
sloop at a distance, were at a tavern, and would be glad, 
if I could procure them something for supper. 6 Well, 
sir, I will send my man over with the fish; but you can 
tarry here, and have some dressed for yourself. 5 No, sir, 
it is proper I should see how they are accommodated. 
i Well, sir, you shall do as yon please; but, after supper, 
I beg you would return, and take a bed with us, you will 
be better pleased here, than in a tavern. 5 I gratefully 
thanked him, and cheerfully accepted his offer. I was 
astonished to see so much genuine politeness and urbani- 
ty, under so rough a form; but my astonishment was 
greatly increased on my return. His room was prepared, 
his fire bright, and his heart open. c Come, 5 said he, 6 my 
friend, I am glad you have returned, I have longed to 
see you, I have been expecting you a long time. 5 I was 
perfectly amazed. What do you mean, sir? c I must go 
on my own way, I am a poor ignorant man, I neither 
know how to read, nor write; I was born in these woods, 
and my father did not think proper to teach me my let- 
ters. I worked, on these grounds, until I became a man, 
when I went coasting voyages from hence to New York. 
I was then desirous of becoming a husband, but, in going 
to New York, I was pressed on board a man of war, and I 



IjIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



137 



was taken, in admiral Warren's ship to Cape-Breton. 
I never drank any rum, so they saved my allowance; but 
I would not bear an affront, so if any of the officers struck 
me I struck them again, but the admiral took my part^ 
called me his new-light man. When we reached Louis- 
bourg, I ran away and travelled barefooted through the 
country, and almost naked, to New York, where I was 
known, and supplied with clothes and money, and soon 
returned to this place, when I found my girl marriedj 
this rendered me very unhappy, but I recovered my tran- 
quillity and married her sister. I sat down to work; got 
forward very fast; constructed a saw-mill; possessed 
myself of this farm, and five hundred acres of adjoining 
land. I entered into navigation, became the owner of a 
sloop, and have got together a large estate. I am, as I 
said, unable either to write or read, but I am capable of 
reflection; the sacred scriptures have been often read to 
me, from which I gather, that there is a great and good 
Being, to whom we are indebted for all we enjoy. It is 
this great, and good Being, who hath preserved, and pro- 
tected me, through innumerable dangers, and, as He had 
given me a house of my own, I conceived I could not do 
less than to open it to the stranger, let him be who he 
would; and especially, if a travelling minister passed this 
way, he always received an invitation to put up at my 
house, and hold his meetings here. I continued this 
practice for more than seven years, and, illiterate as I 
was, I used to converse with them, and was fond of ask- 
ing them questions. They pronounced me an odd mortal, 
declaring themselves at a loss what to make of me: while 
I continued to affirm, that I had but one hope; I believed, 
that Jesus Christ suffered death for my transgressions, 
and this alone was sufficient for me. At length my wife 
grew weary of having meetings held in her house, and I 
determined to build a house for the worship of God. I 
had no children, and I knew that I was beholden to Al- 
mighty God for every thing, which I possessed; and it 
seemed right, I should appropriate a part, of what he had 
bestowed, for His service. My neighbors offered their 
assistance. But no, said I; God has given me enough to 
do this work, without your aid, and, as he has put it into 
my heart to do, so I will do. And who, it was asked, 
will be your preacher? I answered, God will send me a 
preacher, and of a very different stamp from those, who 
have heretofore preached in my house. The preachers., 
we have heard, are perpetually contradicting themselves; 
but that God, who has put it into my heart to build this 



138 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



house, will send one, who shall deliver unto me his own 
truth; who shall speak of Jesus Christ, and his salvation. 
When the house was finished, I received an application 
from the Baptists; and I told them, if they could make it 
appear, that God Almighty was a Baptist, the building 
should be theirs at once. The Quakers, and Presbyteri- 
ans, received similar answers. No, said I, as I firmly 
believe, that all mankind are equally dear to Almighty 
God, they shall all be equally welcome to preach in this 
house, which I have built. My neighbors assured me, I 
never should see a preacher, whose sentiments corres- 
ponded with my own; but my uniform reply was, that I 
assuredly should. I engaged, the first year, with a man, 
who I greatly disliked; we parted, and, for some years 
we have had no stated minister. My friends often ask 
me, c Where is the preacher, of whom you spake? 5 And 
my constant reply has been, He will by and by make his 
appearance. The moment I beheld your vessel on shore, 
it seemed as if a voice had audibly sounded in my ears: 
There, Potter, in that vessel, cast away on that shore, is 
the preacher, you have been so long expecting. I heard 
the voice, and I believed the report; and when you came 
up to my door, and asked for the fish, the same voiee 
seemed to repeat: Potter, this is the man, this is the 
person, whom I have sent to preach in your house ! 5 

I was astonished, immeasurably astonished at Mr. Pot- 
ter's narrative; but yet I had not the smallest idea it 
could ever be realized. I requested to know, what he could 
discern in my appearance, which could lead him to mis- 
take me for a preacher? c What, 5 said he, 6 could I dis- 
cern, when you were in the vessel, that could induce this 
conclusion? No, sir, it is not what I saw, or see, but 
what I feel, which produces in my mind a full convic- 
tion. 5 

But, my dear sir, you are deceived, indeed you are 
deceived; I never shall preach in this place, nor any- 
where else. 

c Have you never preached ? can you say you have 
never preached ?' I cannot, but I never intend to preach 
again. 

c Has not God lifted up the light of his countenance 
upon you? Has he not shown you his truth? 5 
I trust he has. 

'And how dare you hide this truth? Do men light a 
candle to put it under a bushel? If God has shown you 
has salvation, why should you not show it to your fellow 
men? But I know, that you will; I am sure, God Almigh- 



UFfi OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 139 

has sent you to us for this purpose; I am not deceived, 
I am sure I am not deceived. 5 

I was terrified as the man thus went on; and I began 
to fear that God, who orders all things according to the 
counsel of his own will, had ordained, that thus it should 
be, and my heart trembled at the idea. I endeavored, 
however, to banish my own fears, and to silence the 
warm-hearted man by observing, that I was in the place 
of a supercargo; that property to a large amount had 
been entrusted to my care: and that, the moment the 
wind changed, I was under the most solemn obligations 
to depart* 

c The wind will never change, sir, until you have de* 
livered to us, in that meeting-house, a message from God.' 

Still I was resolutely determined never to enter any 
pulpit, as a preacher; yet, being rendered truly unhap- 
py, I begged I might be shown to my bed. He requested 
I would pray with them, if I had no objection. I asked 
him, how he could suppose I had any objection pray- 
ing? The Quakers, he said, seldom prayed; and there 
were others, who visited him, who were not in the habit 
of praying. I never propose prayer, sir, lest it should 
not meet with the approbation of those, with whom I 
sojourn; but I am always pleased, when prayer is pro- 
posed to me. I prayed, and my heart was greatly en- 
larged and softened. When we parted for the night, 
my kind host solemnly requested, that I would think of 
what he had said. Alas ! he need not to have made this 
request; it was impossible to banish it from my mind. 
When I entered my chamber, and shut the door, I burst 
into tears ; I would have given the world, that I had 
never left England. I felt, as if the hand of God was in 
the events, which had brought me to this place, and I 
prayed most ardently, that God would assist and direct 
me by his counsel. I presented myself before Him, as a 
man bowed down by calamity; a melancholy outcast, 
driven by repeated afflictions of body and of mind to seek 
refuge in private life, to seek solitude amid the wilds of 
America. Thou knowest, said my oppressed spirit, thou 
knowest, O Lord, that, if it had pleased thee, I would have 
preferred death, as the safest, and most sure retreat; but 
Thou hast not seen fit U> indulge my wishes in this re- 
spect. In thy providence, thou hast brought me into this 
new world; thou seest how I am oppressed by solicita- 
tions to speak unto the people the words of life; thou 
knowest, that I am not sufficient for these things; thou God 
of my fathers, thou God of the stranger, look with pity 



140 



LIFE GP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



upon the poor, lonely wanderer, now before thee. O 
thou, that sittest in the heavens, and rulest in the earth 3 
and who assurest us, that a hair of our head cannot fall, 
unnoticed by thee; O thou, who kindly directest us, thy 
poor dependant creatures, to acknowledge thee in all 
their ways, and to make their requests known unto thee 
in every time of affliction, behold thy poor dependent, 
supplicating thee for thy kind direction and protection; 
if thou hast indeed put it into the heart of thy servant to 
demand of me, the meanest and weakest of all, to whom 
thou didst ever give power to believe in the name of thy 
Son, to declare unto him, and the people of this place, 
the gospel of thy grace O God! in mercy prepare me, 
prepare me for so vast an undertaking, and let thy pre- 
sence be with me 5 strengthen me, O Lord, by thy mighty 
spirit. And if it be not thy pleasure thus to employ me, 
— for thou, O God, wilt send, by whom thou wilt send, — 
graciously manifest thy will, that so I may not by any 
means be drawn into a snare Thou art the sinner's 
friend, thou art the only friend I have. To thee, O thou 
compassionate Father of my spirit, encouraged by thy 
gracious promises, I make application. Pity, O pity the 
destitute stranger; leave me not, I most earnestly entreat 
thee, to my own direction. 

i Thus did I pray, thus did I weep through the greater 
part of the night; dreading more than death, even sup- 
posing death an object of dread, the thought of engag- 
ing, as a public character. On the one hand, I discover- 
ed, that if there be a ruling power, a superintending 
providence, the account, given by the extraordinary man 
under whose roof I reposed, evinced its operation; that, 
if the heart of the creature be indeed in the hand of the 
Creator, it was manifest, that God had disposed the heart 
of this man to view me as His messenger, sent for the 
purpose, of declaring the council of his peace to his 
creatures. On the other hand, I recollected, that the 
heart is deceitful, above all things; that the devices of 
the adversary are manifold; and that, had it been the 
will of God, that I should have become a promulgator of 
the gospel of his grace, he would have qualified me for 
an object of such infinite magnitude. If I testified of 
Jesus according to the scriptures, I well knew upon what 
I must calculate; the clergy, of all denominations, would 
unite to oppose me. For 1 had never met with any indi- 
vidual of that order, either in the Church of Rome; or 
elsewhere, who were believers of the Gospel, that God 
preached unto Abraham, that, in Christ Jesus, all the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



141 



families of the earth should be blessed; nor did they, as 
far as I had known, embrace the ministry of reconcilia- 
tion, committed unto the apostles, namely, that God was 
in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself, not im- 
puting unto them their trespasses; nor did they acknowl- 
edge the restitution of all things, testified by all God's 
holy prophets ever since the world began. To these doc- 
trines I supposed clergymen in this, as well as in the 
country I had left, united in their opposition; and con- 
vinced that there were no enemies in the world more 
powerful, than the clergy, I trembled at the thought of 
stemming the full tide of their displeasure. I was per- 
suaded that people in general, being under the dominion 
of the clergy, would hate where they hated, and report 
what they reported. Acquainted in some measure with 
human nature, and with divine revelation, I was certain, 
that, if I appeared in the character of a real disciple of 
Christ Jesus; if 1 dared to declare the whole truth of 
God, all manner of evil would be said of me; and, 
although it might be falsely said, while the inventor of 
the slander would be conscious of its falsehood, the ma- 
jority of those who heard would yield it credit, and I 
should become the victim of their credulity. 

I knew how Mr. Relly had suffered in England, and 
the Apostles in Judea; and being a believer in the testimo- 
ny of God, 1 was assured, if my doctrines were the same, 
my treatment would be similar. All this rose to my view, 
and the prospect was tremendous. Thus I passed the 
night, and the ensuing morning witnessed my indisposi- 
tion both of body and mind. My good friend renewed 
his solicitations. * Will you, sir, speak tome, and to 
my neighbors, of the things which belong to our peace ?' 
Seeing only thick woods, the tavern across the field ex- 
cepted, I requested to know what he meant by neigh- 
bors ? c sir, we assemble a large congregation, when- 
ever the meeting-house is opened; indeed, when my 
father first settled here, he was obliged to go twenty miles 
to grind a bushel of corn, but there are now more than 
seven hundred inhabitants within that distance.' I was 
amazed; indeed every thing I saw, and every thing I heard, 
amazed me; nothing, except the religion of the people, 
resembled what I had left behind. 

My mind continued subjected to the most torturing re- 
flections. I could not bring myself to yield to the en- 
treaties of Mr. Potter, and still I urged the necessity of 
departing, the moment the wind would answer. Mr. 
Potter, was positive the wind would not change, until I 



142 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

bad spoken to the people. Most ardently did I desire to 
escape the importunities of this good man. The idea 
of a crowd, making a public exhibition of myself, was, 
to my desolate, wo-worn mind, intolerable 3 and the sus- 
pense, in which I was held was perfectly agonizing. I 
could not forbear acknowledging an uncommon coinci- 
dence of circumstances. The hopes and fears of this 
honest man, so long in operation, yet he evinced great 
warmth of disposition, and was evidently tinctured with 
enthusiasm; bnt, after making every allowance for these 
propensities, it could not be denied, that an over-ruling 
Power seemed to operate, in an unusual, and remarka- 
ble manner. I could not forbear looking back upon the 
mistakes, made during our passage, even to the coming 
in to this particular inlet, where no vessel, of the size of 
the brig c Hand-in-Hand, 5 had ever before entered > 
every circumstance contributed to bring me to this house. 
Mr. Potter's address on seeing me; his assurance, that he 
knew I was on board the vessel, when he saw her at a 
distance: all these considerations pressed with powerful 
conviction on my mind, and I was ready to say. If God 
Almighty has, in his providence, so ordered events, as to 
bring me into this country for the purpose of making 
manifest the savor of his name, and of bringing many to 
the knowledge of the truth; though I would infinitely 
prefer death, to entering into a character, which will 
subject me to what is infinitely worse than death; yet, 
as the issues of life and death are not under my direc- 
tion, am I not bound to submit to the dispensations of 
providence? I wished, however, to be convinced, that 
it was the will of God, that I should step forth in a 
character, which would be considered as obnoxious as 
truly detestable. I was fully convinced, it was not by 
the will of the flesh, nor by the will of the world, nor 
by the will of the god of this world; all these were 
strongly opposed thereto. One moment, I felt my res- 
olution give way; the path, pointed out, seemed to 
brighten upon me: but the next, the difficulties, from 
within and without, obscured the prospect, and 1 relapsed 
into a firm resolution to shelter myself, in solitude, 
from the hopes, and fears, and the various contentions of 
men. 

While I thus balanced, the Sabbath advanced, I had 
ventured to implore the God, who had sometimes con- 
descended to indulge individuals with tokens of his ap* 
probation, graciously to indulge me, upon this important 
occasion; and tbat 3 if it were his will^ that I should oh* 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



143 



tain the desire of my soul, by passing through life ia a 
private character. If it were not his will, that I should 
engage as a preacher of the ministry of reconciliation, 
he would vouchsafe to grant me such a wind, as might 
bear me from this shore, before the return of another 
Sabbath-. I determined to take the changing of the wind 
for an answer; and, had the wind changed, it would 
have borne on its wings full conviction, because it 
would have corresponded with my wishes. But the 
wind changed not, and Saturday morning arrived. 8 Well,' 
said my anxious friend, c now let me give notice to my 
neighbors. 5 No, sir, not yet, should the wind change in 
the middle of the afternoon, I must depart. No tongue 
can tell, nor heart conceive, how much I suffered this 
afternoon; but the evening came on, and it was neces- 
sary I should determine; and at last, with much fear 
and trembling, I yielded a reluctant consent. Mr. Pot- 
ter then immediately despatched his servants, on horse- 
back, to spread the intelligence far and wide, and they 
were to continue their information, until ten in the eve- 
ning. 

I had no rest through the night. What should I say, 
or how address the people? Yet I recollected the admo- 
nition of our Lord: e Take no thought what you shall 
say: it shall be given you in that same hour, -what you 
shall sayS Ay, but this promise was made to his disci- 
ples. Well, by this, I shall know if I am a disciple. If 
God, in his providence, is committing to me a dispensa- 
tion of the gospel, He will furnish me with matter, 
without my thought or care. If this thing be not of God, 
He will desert me, and this shall be another sign; on 
this, then, I rested. Sunday morning succeeded; my 
host was in transports. I was — I cannot describe how 
I was. I entered the house; it was neat and convenient, 
expressive of the character of the builder. There were 
no pews; the pulpit was rather in the Quaker mode; 
the seats were constructed with backs, roomy, and even 
elegant. I said there were no pews; there was one large 
square pew, just before the pulpit; in this sat the vene- 
rable man and his family, particular friends, and visit- 
.ng strangers. In this pew sat, upon this occasion this 
happy man, and, surely, no man, upon this side of 
heavon, was ever more completely happy. He looked 
up to the pulpit with eyes sparkling with pleasure; it ap- 
peared to him, as the fulfilment of a promise long defer- 
red; and he reflected, with abundant consolation, on the 
strong faith, which he had cherished, while his associates 



144 



LITE OF RET. JOHN MURK AT. 



would tauntingly question, t Well, Potter, where is this 
minister, who is to be sent to you? 5 ( He is coming 
along, in God's own good time.' c And do you still 
believe any such preacher will visit you?' c O yes, assu- 
redly.' He reflected upon all this, and tears of transport 
filled his eyes; he looked round upon the people, and 
every feature seemed to say, c There, what think you 
now?, When I returned to his house, he caught me in 
his arms, 6 Now, now I am willing to depart; Oh, my 
God! I will praise thee; thou hast granted me my de- 
sire. After this truth I have been seeking, but I have never 
found it,until now; I knew, that God, who put it into my 
heart to build a house for his worship, would send a servant 
of his own to proclaim his own gospel. I knew he would; 
I knew the time was come, when I saw the vessel ground- 
ed; I knew, you were the man, when I saw you approach 
my door, and my heart leaped for joy.' Visitors poured 
into the house; he took each by the hand. This is the 
happiest day of my life,' said the transported man: 
c There, neighbors, there is the minister God promised 
to send me; how do you like God's minister;' I ran from 
the company, and prostrating myself before the throne 
of grace, besought my God to take me, and do with me, 
whatever he pleased. I am, said I, I am, O Lord God, 
in thine hand, as clay in the hand of the potter. If thou 
in thy providence, hast brought me into this new world 
to make known unto this people the grace and the bless- 
ings of the new covenant; if thou hast thought proper, 
by making choice of so weak an instrument, to confound 
the wise; if thou hast been pleased to show to a babe, 
possessing neither wisdom nor prudence, what thou hast 
hid from the wise and prudent, — be it so, O Father, for 
so it seemeth good in thy sight. But, O my merciful 
God ! leave me not, I beseech thee, for a single moment; 
for without thee, I can do nothing. O, make thy strength 
perfect in my weakness, that the world may see that 
thine is the power, and that therefore thine ought to be the 
glory. Thus my heart prayed, while supplicating tears 
bedewed my face. 

I felt, however, relieved and tranquillized, for I had 
power given me to trust in the Lord; to stay upon the 
God of my salvation. Immediately upon my return to 
the company? my boatmen entered the house: c The wind 
is fair, sir.' Well, then, we will depart. It is late in 
the afternoon, but no matter, I will embark directly; I 
haA 7 e been determined to embrace the first opportunity, 
well knowing the suspense the captain must be in, and 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



145 



the pain attendant thereon. Accordingly, as soon as 
matters could be adjusted, 1 set off; but not till my old 
friend, taking me by the hand, said: c You are now 
going to New York; I am afraid you will, when there, 
forget the man, to whom your Master sent you. But I 
do beseech you, come back to me again as soon as possi- 
ble.' The tears gushed into his eyes, and, regarding me 
with a look, indicative of the strongest affection, he threw 
his arms around me, repeating his importunites, that I 
would not unnecessarily delay my return. I was greatly 
affected, reiterating the strongest assurances, that I would 
conform to his wishes. Why should I not? said I; what 
is there to prevent me? I do not know an individual in 
New York; no one knows me; what should induce me 
to tarry there? c Ah, my friend, 5 said he, 'you will find 
many in New York, who will love and admire you, and 
they will wish to detain you in that city. But you have 
promised you will return, and I am sure you will perform 
your promise; and in the mean time, may the God of 
heaven be with you/ 5 Unable to reply, I hurried from 
bis door; and, on entering the vessel, I found the good 
old man had generously attended, to what had made no 
part of my care, by making ample provision, both for me 
and the boatmen, during our little voyage. 

I retired to the cabin; I had leisure for serious reflec- 
tions, and serious reflections crowded upon me. I was 
astonished, I was lost in wonder, in love, and praise; I 
saw, as evidently as I could see any object, visibly 
exhibited before me, that the good hand of God was in 
all these things. It is, I spontaneously exclaimed, it is the 
Lord's doings! and it is marvellous in my eyes. It 
appeared to me, that I could trace the hand of God, in 
bringing me, through a long chain of events, to such a 
place, to such a person, so evidently prepared for my 
reception; and, vvhile I acknowledged the will of God, 
manifested respecting my public character, I at the same 
moment distinguished the kindness of God, evinced by 
his indulging me with a retirement so exactly suited to 
my wishes. The house was neat, the situation enchant- 
ing, it was on the margin of the deep, on the side of an 
extensive bay, which abounded with fish of every descrip- 
tion, and a great variety of water fowl. On the other 
side of this dwelling, after passing over a few fields, 
(which at that time stood thick with corn,) venerable 
woods, that seemed the coevals of time, presented a 
'scene for contemplation n't, towering, majestic, and 
filling the devotional mind with a religious awe. 5 I 
13* 



146 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



reflected, therefore, with augmenting gratitude to my 
heavenly Father, upon the pressing invitation, he had 
put into the heart of his faithful servant to give me; and 
I determined to hasten back to this delightful retreat, 
where nothing, but the grandeur of simple nature, exhib- 
ited in the surrounding objects, and the genuine operations 
of the divine spirit on the heart of the hospitable master, 
awaited my approach. 

I had not the least idea of tarrying in New York a 
moment longer, than to see the captain, deliver up my 
charge, and receive my baggage, and I resolved to return, 
by the first opportunity, to my benevolent friend. And 
thus did I make up my mind: Well, if it be so, I am 
grateful to God, that the business is thus adjusted. If I 
must be a promulgator of these glad, these vast, yet 
obnoxious tidings, I shall however be sheltered in the 
bosom of friendship, in the bosom of retirement. I will 
employ myself on the grounds of my friend, thus earning 
my own support, and health will be a concomitant; while 
I will preach the glad tidings of salvation, free as the 
light of heaven. The business, thus arranged, I became 
reconciled to the will of the Almighty, and I commenced, 
with tolerable composure, another, and very important, 
stage of my various life. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Record continued from the September of 1770 to the Win- 
ter of 1114. 

* Armed with the sword of Jesse's youthful son, 
Engaged with ardor in the freedom won 
By Christ, the anointed God of earth and heaven, 
Dare nobly, Murray, tell the boon that's given. 

Motto by a Friend. 

Behold me now entering upon a new stage of the 
journey of life, a professed preacher of the gospel. Of 
my inability for an undertaking so vast, I retained a con- 
tinued and depressing sense; but I determined to be as 
consistent, and as useful, as possible; I would be an as- 
sistent to my new friend in his agricultural and fishing 
employments; and, upon every returning Sunday, I would 
preach to him the truth as it is in Jesus; I had not the most 
remote idea of ever preaching any where, but in the house, 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



147 



which he had built; and thus I should questionless be in- 
dulged with the retirement, which had been the prime 
object of my voyage. Thus consolatory were my reflec- 
tions upon my passage to New York; at which place I 
arrived about noon, upon the ensuing day. I inquired 
for the captain, delivered up my charge, took my baggage 
from the brig Hand-in-Hand, and secured a lodging, un- 
til I could obtain a passage back to the hospitable mansion 
I had left. But the day had not closed in, before a num- 
ber of persons visited me, earnestly soliciting me to speak 
to them of the things of the kingdom ! I was immeasura- 
bly astonished; totally a stranger in the city, 1 could 
scarcely believe I was not in a dream. The boatman, 
however, having given an account of me on their arrival, 
the intelligence was wafted from one end of the city unto 
the other; and the people, being anxious to hear some- 
thing new, and from a new preacher, became extremely 
importunate. I could not deny that I had preached; but 
I gave the solicitors to understand, that I had absolutely 
engaged to return by the first opportunity, and that, of 
course I was not at liberty to comply with their request. 
They promised they would insure me a speedy and eli- 
gible conveyance, if I would consent to give them a dis- 
course in the Baptist meeting-house; and it became im- 
possible to resist their persuasions. The house was 
thronged, and the hearers so well satisfied, as to solicit, 
most earnestly, my continuance amoi.g them. But this I 
was not disposed to do; this I could not do; my word, 
my honor was engaged to my first American friend; and, 
when duty is seconded by inclination, perseverance be- 
comes a matter of course. Upwards of a week elapsed, 
before the earnestly sought-for passage presented during 
which period I frequently preached and to crowded 
houses. I was gratified by the marked attention of many 
characters. Novelty is rarely destitute of attraction. 
Even the minister extended to me the hand of apparent 
friendship; which I accounted for upon a supposition, 
that he was ignorant of my testimony. 1 made use of the 
same scriptures, which he made use of; and he was not 
apprized, that I yielded them unqualified credence. I had 
no doubt, that, so soon as he should be informed, that I 
believed what I delivered, he would condemn, as much as 
he now appeared to approve. Yet some few there were, 
firm, unchanging friends, whose attachment to me, and 
my testimony, has to this moment continued unbroken. 
So soon as an opportunity to return presented, I very 
cheerfully embraced it; and I felt my heart bound with 



148 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



pleasure, at the thought of that meeting, which, a few 
days before, I would have died to avoid. The charming 
retreat, in the gift of my friend, was, in my estimation, 
highly preferable to New York, and all which it could 
bestow : and I longed most earnestly to quit the one, and 
to return to the other. A number of friends accompa- 
nied me to the vessel, and we parted, with expressions of 
regret. A single day produced me again in the abode of 
genuine, Christian friendship; to which I was welcomed 
with every demonstration of heart-felt joy. 

Here, then, I considered I had found a permanent 
home; that a final period was at length put to my wander- 
ings; and after all my apprehensive dread, from being 
drawn into the public character, now, that I had a pros- 
pect of sustaining this public character, in so private a 
manner, I was not only reconciled, but tranquillized, and 
happy. I had leisure to retrospect my past life, and I 
was filled with astonishment when I beheld all the vari- 
ous paths, which I had trod, ultimately leading me to a 
uniform contemplation of redeeming love; nor could I 
forbear exclaiming: Great and marvellous are thy works, 
Lord God Almighty ! just and true are thy ways, O, thou 
King of saints ! 

t ^ The winter now approached, and with hasty strides; 
my worthy friend was diligently gathering in the fruits 
of the earth. I was disposed to aid him to the utmost of 
my abilities. He could not bear the thought of my labor- 
ing in the field, ' Why need you? have you not enough 
to engage your attention, in the business on which you 
are sent ? 5 Believe me, my friend, my employment in 
your field, will not interrupt my reflections. I can study 
better in the field, than in my chamber; it requires but 
little study to deliver simple, plain, gospel truth; to per- 
vert this truth, requires a vast deal of wordly wisdom.. 
Let me, my dear sir, do as I please; I have fixed upon a 
plan, with which you shall be acquainted, when the 
labors of the day are closed. In the evening, when the 
cheerful fire blazed upon the hearth, and we were seated 
in the well-lighted parlor; c Come, 5 said the good man, 
c now for your plan. 3 I think, my dear sir, said I, I am 
at length convinced, that God in his providence has 
thought proper to appoint me, however unworthy, to the 
ministry of the new testament; and while persuaded that 
our common Father has committed a dispensation of the 
gospel to me, and that a wo is pronounced against me, 
if I preach it not, it will be impossible I should remain 
silent: but, knowing, as I do, something of the nature 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



149 



of man, and of the situation of preachers, in general, 
I am, for myself determined not to make a gain of 
godliness; I will make no provision for myself. I 
nave abundance of cloathing; and as to food, I will eat 
of whatever is set before me, asking no question, either 
for the sake of conscience, or appetite; and for my drink, 
nothing is so salutary for me, as cold water* I am per- 
suaded, I shall not live long in this world; at least, I 
hope I shall not. I am alone in the world; I shall want 
but little here, 6 nor want that little long.' I reject, then, 
with my whole soul I reject, the liberal offer, you so re- 
cently made me, of a fixed stipend. I will have no sala- 
ry, I will have no collections, I will preach the gospel, 
freely. I will work in your fields, I will eat at your table, 
I will slake my thirst at the limpid stream which furnishes 
your family; but you shall make no change in the order 
of your house, on my account. I will associate with your 
associates. I expect to meet them, at the table of my 
great Lord and Master, in mansions beyond the grave; 
and shall I hesitate to meet them, upon equal terms, in 
this lower world? I am pleased with your situation; 
with your house of worship; with your neighbors; with 
every thing I am pleased; and if that God, who brought 
me hither, will graciously vouchsafe to indulge me with 
the privilege of tarrying here, until I am liberated from 
this body of sin and death, I shall be still better pleased. 

The good old man could no longer suppress his feel- 
ings. He arose from his seat, caught me in his arms, 
essa}'ed to speak, paused, and at length exclaimed: £ O 
my God, is it possible? Why such, I have thought, 
ministers of Jesus Christ ought to be. 5 But, my friend, 
I replied, every minister of Jesus Christ cannot live, as I 
can. I have no family, no home, no want. If I had a 
family, I should be worse than an infidel, not to make 
provisions for my household; but God, by separating me 
from my beloved companion, and my cherub boy, hag 
enabled me to preach the gospel, freely. I never saw 
any man so delighted, and especially with my deterrnina- 
tiou to continue with him. Dear, kind-hearted man, 
both he, and I, then believed, that death only could sepa- 
rate us.* In a place, so remote from the world, I im- 

* If the reader wishes to peruse a delineation of the feelings of the 
subject of this biography, up>n visiting this delightful retreat, after 
the demise of its philanthropic owner, with a sermon, preached upon, 
the occasion, he may see 'ioth in the eleventh Letter, Vol. I. of the 
' Letters and Sketches of Sermons/ recently published by the now 
departed preacher. Ed. 



150 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



agined I should enjoy, uninterruptedly, every wish of my 
heart; and again and again I felicitated myself in the 
prospect of finishing my weary life in this sweet, this 
calm retreat, unincumbered by care, — conferring, as well 
as receiving, benefits, — nobly independent, — possessing 
all which the treacherous world could now bestow. 
Thus I went on, — pleased, and pleasing. I had leisure 
for converse with myself, with my Bible, and my God. 
The letters of my Eliza were a source of mournfully pen- 
sive consolation, — they were multiplied, — and I had 
carefully preserved them. Many a time have I shed 
over them the private, the midnight tear; and reading 
them thus late, when I have fallen into a sweet slumber, 
1 have met the lovely author in my dreams, and our 
meeting has been replete with consolation, with such 
high intercourse, as can only be realized in heaven. 
Our Sundays were indeed blessed holy-days; people 
began to throng from all quarters on horseback; some 
from the distance of twenty miles. I was at first pleased 
with this, so was my patron; but multiplied invitations 
to visit other places, saddened our spirits. I dreaded the 
thought of departing from home, and, in the fulness of 
my heart, I determined I would never accede to any re- 
quest, which should bear me from a seclusion, so com- 
pletely commensurate with my wishes. Alas ! alas ! how 
little do we know of ourselves, or our destination. So- 
licitations, earnest solicitations, poured in from the Jer- 
sies, from Philadelphia, and from NewYork; and it be- 
came impossible to withstand their repeated and impos- 
ing energy. 

The first visit I made, was to a village about eight 
miles from my late-found home. My patron accompanied 
me, and we were joyfully received, by a serious and 
respectable family, who embraced, with devout hearts, 
the truth, as it is in Jesus; and who were consequently 
saved from all those torturing fears, that had previously 
harrowed up their spirits, in the dread expectation of 
those everlasting burnings, which they believed awaited 
themselves and their offspring. In this village, I one 
morning entered a house, and beheld a fond mother 
weeping over an infant, who lay sweetly sleeping in her 
arms. Sympathy for the sorrowing mother moistened 
my eye; and, supposing that her tears flowed from some 
domestic distress, or pecuniary embarrassment, I endea- 
vored to console her, by observing, that the world was 
very wide, and that God was an all sufficient Father 
8 Alas ! sir,' she replied, 6 1 never, in the whole course of 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 151 

my life, experienced a moment's anxiety from the dread 
of my children, or myself, suffering the want either of 
food, or raiment. No, sir, my fears are, that they will 
be sufferers through the wasteless ages of eternity, in 
that state of torment, from whence there is no reprieve; 
and that they will continually execrate their parents, as 
the wretched instruments of bringing them into being. 
I have eight children, sir; and can I be so arrogant, as to 
believe that all these children are elected to everlasting 
life? ' But, my dear lady, you have reason to believe 
they will be saved, whether they be elected or not, be- 
cause Christ Jesus is the Saviour of all men. This did 
not satisfy her. I took up the bible, which lay upon her 
desk, and the first scripture, which met my view, was the 
127th Psalm. I glanced my eye upon the 3d verse of 
that Psalm : ( Lo, children are the heritage of the Lord, 
and the fruit of the womb is his reward. 5 I did not re- 
collect this passage; it was the first time it had met my 
particular observation; but it has ever since been right 
precious to my soul. I merely opened the bible, in the 
expectation of finding something to soothe a sorrowing 
mother, and this most pertinent passage broke upon me, 
with unequalled splendor. I was myself astonished, and 
presenting the sacred passage, I remarked: There, 
madam, God has sent you, for your consolation, this 
divine discovery. You have been unhappy, because you 
did not know, that your children were God's children, 
and that He loved them as well, yea, infinitely better, 
than you can pretend to love them. Nay, look at the 
passage : you see your children are the heritage of God, 
they are his reward; will He give His heritage to His 
adversary ? or will He suffer him to seize any part there- 
of, if He has sufficient power to prevent it? Again and 
again, the fond mother perused the passage; gradually 
her countenance changed, and the cloud dispersed; a 
flood of tears burst from her eyes^ she brightened up, 
and, pressing her babe to her maternal bosom, rapturously 
exclaimed: 'Blessed, blessed God, they are not mine; 
they are thine, O Almighty Father; and thou wilt not be 
regardless of thine own ? ' J I never saw more joy in con- 
sequence of believing, than I then beheld. Ten years 
afterwards, I again saw this parent, and asked her, what 
she thought of her children ? Blessed be God, said she, 
they are God's children; and I have never had an un- 
happy moment respecting their future state, since my 
Redeemer has been graciously pleased to make known 



152 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURHAY. 

unto me his soul-satisfying truth. No, sir, my spirit is 
not now a sorrowing spirit. 

Again a letter was handed me from New York, earnest- 
ly entreating me to pay them a visit. Arrangements 
were made for my passage in the vessel by which I 
received the solicitation. To a summons so pressing, I 
dared not turn a deaf ear. In fact, a revolution had 
taken \ lace in my mind. It appeared to me, that I was 
highly reprehensible in thus withdrawing myself from 
the tour of duty, which seemed appointed for me; and I 
determined never to seek, directly or indirectly, for an 
open door, and never again to refuse entering any door 
which Providence should open. It is true, I never wish- 
ed to receive an invitation; but I was aware, that the 
direction of me and my movements were in the hands of 
infinite wisdom; and promising my benevolent host, that 
I would return as soon as possible, I departed for New 
York. My reception surpassed my expectations, and 
even my wishes. Many persons, anxious to detain me 
in their city, went so far, as to hand about a subscription- 
paper, for the purpose of building for me a house of 
public worship. It was completely filled in one day, 
when application was made to me to abide with them 
continually. 1 urged, my absolute promise given, and 
my inclination, prompting my return to Good Luck, the 
name of the place where my friend Potter dwelt. They 
were astonished at my determination to reside in such a 
place, when the city of New York was opening its arms 
to receive me; but, on my repeating the circumstances, 
attendant upon my arrival there, they seemed disposed 
to acquiesce, and to acknowledge the good hand of God 
outstretched for my direction. The Baptist meeting- 
house was again open to me, and the congregations were 
very large; my friends multiplied very fast, and I became 
gradually attached to this city. Yet I ardently desired to 
return to the home of my choice, and, after spending a 
few weeks in New York, I once more hailed my provi- 
dential residence; numbers of warm-hearted friends 
accompanying me, as before, even to the vessel's side, 
where they offered up to heaven their most fervent 
prayers in my behalf. My heart was greatly affected, I 
was warmly attached to many in New York. The 
family of Col. Drake, and many others now no more, 
were very dear to me. I reached home in good health, 
and was received w r ith great joy; even the servants 
seemed to participate the benevolence of their master. 
In fact, having nothing in the habitation of my friend to 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 159 

render me uneasy, my mind became more tranquil, than 
it had been for many years; and, at peace in my own 
breast, I consequently contributed to the happiness of all 
around me. Thus I continued in undisturbed repose, 
until a Baptist minister from New Jersey, believing my 
sentiments precisely in unison with his own, conceived a 
strong affection for me. He solicited me to become a 
member of his church, that I might obtain a license from 
their association. Of course, I declined his friendly of- 
fers; for I well knew, when he discovered I really believ- 
ed the gospel, which I preached, uniting with his brethren, 
he would be as anxious to exclude me from his synagogue, 
as he now was to receive me. He pressed me however, 
to visit him, which I did, accompanied by my patron, 
who, to his great mortification, was necessitated to leave 
me there. In this gentleman's pulpit I preached; I 
lodged in his house; and received from him every mark 
of attention, until my unbending refusal of all collections, 
and the partiality of his friends, visibly diminished his 
regards. I had calculated upon this change, and it did 
not therefore astonish me. He was, however, a warm- 
hearted man, and as sincere, as men in general are. In 
this place I was introduced to many worthy characters, 
who, as a part of the election, obtained a knowledge of 
truth, as it is in Jesus; among the rest was a justice 
Pangbrun, a venerable old gentleman, who had for many 
years been considered by his brethren, as an oracle. 
This gentleman heard me, and discovered, that my testi- 
mony was not in unison with the teaching, to which he 
had listened. He became sedulously intent upon detec- 
ting my errors, and he soon discovered I was wrong, and 
as soon, kindly endeavored to set me right; but, as there 
was no other way of effectuating his wishes, but by the 
word of God, — for I refused all other authority, — he was 
soon convinced, upon searching the sacred writings for 
proofs of my heresy, that it was he himself, who had 
w r andered from that precious truth once delivered to the 
saints. Without hesitation, he renounced his former 
views, and continued ever after an able and zealous 
advocate for the truth, preached by Abraham. It was 
now noised abroad, that I was an erroneous teacher. 
The clergyman, who was so warmly attached to me, 
while he believed me a Calvinistic Baptist, now com- 
menced a most inveterate adversary; and his opposition 
published more extensively my name, and peculiar tenets. 
Curiosity was excited, and I became the object of general 
inquiry. It is a melancholy truth, that esteem, and 
14 



154 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



consequent friendship, are not generally so operative 
upon the human mind, as rancor and enmity : my ex- 
perience is in unison with this observation. I hastened 
back to my calm retreat; alas! it was no longer my 
peaceful home, — for, although no change had taken place 
in the house of my friend, yet the influence of my 
clerical enemy pursued me. Opposition, however, begat 
opposition; and, while I was hated by the many, I 
was loved and caressed by the few. Solicitations to 
preach were multiplied from every quarter, and, although 
there was no abatement in the attachment of my patron, 
yet the estrangement of some individuals in our vicinity, 
diminished the difficulty of accepting invitations, and I 
was induced to visit a few warm-hearted individuals, in 
the neighborhood of my implacable foe. Upon my 
arrival there, I discovered a want, of which I had not 
until then been conscious : I wanted a horse. A single 
hint was sufficient; a horse was immediately procured, 
and, so ardent was the affection of my adherents, that I 
could not express a wish, which they were not eager to 
gratify; but my wishes were very much bounded, and my 
wants few and simple. 

An invitation from Philadelphia being frequently and 
earnestly repeated, I repaired to that city; a respectable 
circle of friends awaited me there. The Baptist minister 
invited me to his house, and his pulpit. He questioned 
me in private, and, in the course of our conversation, he 
frequently repeated: c Christ, in us, the hope of glory.' 
I ventured to ask, Pray, sir, what do you understand by 
Christ, in us, the hope of glory? c Why, sir, in looking 
into my heart, I find something in it, which I had not 
some years ago. 3 Do you, sir, call this something, 
Christ? 'Undoubtedly.' But, sir, all the angels of God 
worship Christ; all the ends of the earth are admonished 
to look unto Christ, and be saved; we are exhorted to 
trust in him at all times; and to believe, that there is no 
other name given under heaven, among men. whereby 
we can be saved. Now, my good sir, suffer me to ask, 
would it be safe for angels in heaven, or men upon earth, 
to worship that something, you have in your heart, which 
you had not there some years ago? would it be safe for 
all the ends of the earth, or any of the inhabitants of the 
world, to look to that something for salvation ? could I, 
or any other person, trust, at all times, to that something? 
c Then, sir, if this be not Christ, what can the passage I 
have cited mean?' Certainly, sir, this cannot be the 
Christ Paul preached. The Christ, Paul preached, was 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



155 



crucified; he was buried; he arose; he ascended; and 
the heavens must contain him, until the time of the 
restitution of all things. c But how then is it that this 
Christ can be in us the hope of glory?' Why, sir, the 
Christian has no other hope of glory, than Jesus Christ, 
entered within the vail; and this Saviour is, in his heart, 
the object of his trust confidence, and affection. You 
have, sir, as I understand, a t eloved wife in Europe; but, 
although the Western ocean rolls between you, yet you 
may say, she is ever in your heart, and no one would be 
at a loss to understand you; but if you were to tell them, 
your conjugal affection was your wife, they would stare 
at you: and yet it would be as proper to say, your conju- 
gal affection was your wife, as to say your love to God, 
or any other good, and proper propensity, was your 
Christ. No, my dear sir, these are not that Christ, 
the things of which, the Spirit of truth taketh, and show- 
eth them to men, as the matter of their rejoicing. The 
Christ, of whom you speak, can be no other than the 
false Christ; that is, something which is called Christ, 
but is not Christ. The Christ, pf whom you speak, as 
your hope of glory, was never seen by any body, and is 
itself nobody. It neither suffered for your sins, nor rose 
for your justification; and it is therefore most unworthy 
to be held in reverence. This conversation, as may be 
supposed, made this gentleman exceeding angry; and I 
was not a little surprised to hear him, although he imme- 
diately broke up the conference, insisted upon my coming 
the ensuing day (Sunday), according to promise, to preach 
in his pulpit. The intelligence ran through the city, 
that I was to preach in the Baptist meeting-house, and 
numbers flocked to hear. I came, I entered the parlor 
of the reverend gentleman; many of the members of his 
church were present, and a young candidate for the 
ministry. The gentleman, who invited me, and who 
repeated his invitation on parting with me, arose, and 
throwing upon me a most indignant glance, took the 
young gentleman by the hand, and led him into the 
meeting-house, which was adjoining to his dwelling, 
leaving me standing in his parlor. I now perceived, 
why he had insisted upon my coming to preach for him. 
But it was not wonderful; I had spoken contemptibly of 
his Christ, and he took rank among my inveterate foes; 
yet I had, among his connexions, a few friends, who, 
indignant at the treatment I had received, redoubled their 
caresses. There was at this time a small company who 
assembled at a place, known by the name of Bachelor's- 



f56 I^IPE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

Hall; they were unacquainted with the truth I delivered; 
yet, willing to hear for themselves, they invited me to 
preach for them. Halting between two opinions, they 
solicited aid from a minister of another persuasion; and 
they requested me to hear him, to which I readily con- 
sented. The preacher selected his text. ( Behold the 
Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world.' He 
commenced his comment: c My friends, I shall undertake 
to prove, that Jesus never did, nor never will take away 
the sin of the world. 5 I was astonished, and the persons, 
asking my attendance, were abashed. The preacher 
added : 6 It is impossible Christ can have taken away the 
sin of the world, for then all the world must be saved. 3 
This was unquestionable; I was exceedingly gratified, 
and the more, as this sermon, intended for my confusion, 
did much to establish that truth, of which, by the grace 
of God, I was a promulgator. 

The combined efforts of the clergy in Philadelphia 
barred against me the door of every house of public 
worship iu the city. Baehelor's-Hall was in Kensington. 
But at Bachelor's-Hall the people attended, and a few 
were enabled to believe the good word of their God. 
There was in the city, a minister of the Seventh-day 
Baptist persuasion; for a season he appeared attached to 
me, but soon became very virulent in his opposition. 
He told me he passed on foot nine miles, upon the return 
of every Saturday, to preach. I asked him, how many 
his congregation contained ? 6 About an hundred. 5 How 
many of this hundred do you suppose are elected to ever- 
lasting life? fi I cannot tell. 5 Do you believe fifty are 
elected? 6 Oh no, nor twenty. 5 Ten perhaps? 6 There 
may be ten. 5 Do you think the non-elect can take any 
step to extricate themselves from the tremendous situa- 
tion, in which the decrees of Heaven have placed them? 
' Oh no, they might as well attempt to pull the stars from 
the firmament of heaven. 5 And do you think your 
preaching can assist them? c Certainly not; every ser- 
mon they hear will sink them deeper and deeper in dam- 
nation. 5 And so, then, you walk nine miles every Satur- 
day to sink ninety persons out of a hundred deeper and 
deeper in never-ending misery ! 

Reports, injurious to my peace, were now very gener- 
ally circulated; and although 1 expected all manner of 
evil would be said of me falsely, for his sake, whose ser- 
vant I was, yet did the shafts of slander possess a deadly 
power, by which I was sorely wounded. Had the poi- 
soned weapon been aimed by characters, wicked in the 



i 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



157 



eommon acceptation of the word, it would have fallen 
harmless; nay the fire of their indignation would have 
acted as a purifier of my name; but reports, originating 
from those, who were deemed holy and reverend — alas! 
their bite was mortal. Again I sighed for retirement, again 
I hastened to the bosom of my patron, and again my re- 
ception was most cordial. Yet, although so much evil 
was said of me, many, glancing at the source, made 
candid deductions, and were careful to proportion their 
acts of kindness to the magnitude of my wrongs. Invi- 
tations met me upon the road, and, wafted upon the 
wings of fame, I could enter no town, or village, which 
my name had not reached in which I did not receive 
good, and evil treatment. The clergy and their connex- 
ions were generally inveterate enemies; while those, who 
had will and power to act for themselves, and chanced to 
foe favorably impressed, were very warm in their attach 
ments. Thus my friends were very cordial, and my 
enemies very malignant; and, as my enemies were gen- 
erally at a distance, and my friends at my elbow, but for 
olhcious individuals, who brought me intelligence of all 
they heard, I might have gone on my way with abundant 
satisfaction. At Brunswick, which I had been earnestly 
solicited to visit, I was received into a most worthy family. 
The Rev. Mr. Dunham was of the Seventh-day persua- 
sion; a man of real integrity, who, although he could not 
see. as I saw, threw open the doors of his meeting- 
house; conducted me into his pulpit; and discharged 
toward me, in every particular, the duty of a Christian, 
His neighbor, a clergyman, who was a First-day Baptist, 
exhibited a complete contrast to Mr. Dunham. He in- 
vited me, it u true, to his house; asked me to lodge 
there; we convened together, prayed together, he ap- 
peared very kind, aod much pleased, and I believed him 
my confirmed friend until, leaving Brunswick, I called 
upon some, whose deportment to me was the reverse of 
what it had heretofore been. I demanded a reason; 

when they frankly informed me, that the Rev. Mr. 

had made such representations, as had destroyed all the 
pleasure, they had been accustomed to derive from my 
presence. This affected me beyond expression, a stran- 
ger as 1 was; and, suffering in the dread of what I had 
to expect, I turned from the door of those deceived 
persons, without uttering a word. I quitted their habi- 
tations forever; invidious remarks were made upon my 
silence; but of these I was careless; on other occasions 
I might have been affected, but treachery from a man, 
14* 



158 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



who had entertained me so hospitably, and who stood so 
high in the ranks of piety, shocked me beyond the 
power of utterence. Upon the afternoon of this day, on 
which I had been so deeply hurt, I was engaged to de- 
liver my peaceful message in the pulpit of Mr. Dun- 
ham, in the vicinity of this perfidious man. Some time 
had elapsed since I had seen him, and I then met him 
upon the road; he advanced toward me with an extended 
hand, and a countenance expressive of Christian affec- 
tion : ( You are a great stranger, sir.' Yes, sir, I am a 
stranger, and sojourner, in every place, as all my fathers 
were before me. c Well, how have you been, since I 
saw you? 5 Thanks be to God, I have been preserved 
and owned, and blessed, notwithstanding the slanders 
of the adversary, and his agents. He saw he was de- 
tected, and he determined immediately to drop the mask. 
1 Well, I will do all in my power to obstruct your pro- 
gress in every place. 5 Had you, sir, made this declara- 
tion at an earlier period, I should at least have believed 
you an honest man. But to pass yourself upon me as 
my friend, while you were aiming at me a vital stab! 
Oh sir, I am astonished at you. 6 And I am more astonish- 
ed at you; do you not tremble, when you think that God 
must have a quarrel with you? and that all His ministers 
in America hate you? 5 Sir, I do uot believe my Creator 
is a quarrelsome Being, neither do I credit the informa- 
tion, that all God's ministers hate me; a minister of God 
is incapable of hating any human being. ' But are you 
not confounded, when you consider, that you must be 
right, and we wrong-, or you wrong, and all God 5 s min- 
isters right? Surely, it is more probable we should be 
all right, and you wrong, than you right and we all 
wrong. 5 I have no apprehensions upon this head; some 
one might have questioned, in the days of Elijah, when 
he was opposed by eight hundred and fifty prophet; : e Do 
you not tremble to see all these holy, and reverend priests 
on one side, and you alone on the other? either they must 
be wrong, and you right, or you wrong, and they right. 5 
So in Jerusalem, our divine Master might have been 
asked: 6 Are you not appalled at beholding all the minis- 
ters of God, all the rulers of the people, in opposition? 
Either they must be wrong, and you right, or you wrong, 
and r.hey right; and which, pray, is the most probab.e? 
And the people might have been asked: ( Have any uf 
our rulers believed on him? He is a Devil, and mad, 
why hear ye him? 5 'I am astonished at your daring 
blasphemy, in comparing yourself either to Elijah, or 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



159 



Christ. 5 Why, was not Elijah a man of like passions 
with us ? and are we not taught to put on the Lord Jesus 
Christ? Who is it that asks, If they have called the 
Master of the house Beelzebub? what ought the servants 
of his household to expect? Elijah is a member in the 
same body with me; but the Redeemer is still nearer; 
He is my head, the head of every man; He indulges me 
with the privilege of denying myself, my sinful self, and 
he allows me to acknowledge no other than his blessed 
self; that, thus standing in his name, I may stand in the 
presence of the Father, the Divinity, with exceeding joy; 
that, asking in the name of his immaculate humanity, 
I may be sure to receive, that my joy may be full. Nor 
can all that you, nor any one else can say, be able to 
shake me from this my strong hold. c Ay, perhaps you 
may be mistaken — you may be deceived. 5 If 1 am de- 
ceived, I am deceived; but I will venture. c You know 
this is not the privilege of all, and therefore it may not be 
yours. 5 I do not know that this is not the privilege of all; 
but, if it be of any, it is of the believer; and, as I believe, 
it must be mine. They shall, said my divine Master, say 
all manner of evil of you falsely. You, sir, have been in 
Brunswick, fulfilling this scripture; and I rejoice, that I 
have made the discovery. You can never deceive me 
ag&.in; but as I am not naturally suspicious, others may 
obtain a lease of my good opinion, from which they will 
never but upon the strongest conviction, be ejected. I left 
this good man beyond measure enraged; and, no doubt, 
believing he should really render God service, by doing 
me the most essential injury. I immediately repaired to 
the pulpit of my friend Dunham, where, preaching peace, 
I recovered my lost serenity; and it gladdened my heart 
to believe, that the inveterate enemy, with whom I had 
parted upon the road, was included in the redemption it 
was my business to proclaim. 

But now again, my heart failed me — again I sickened 
at the prospect before me, and my whole soul, revolting 
from a continuance in public life, I once more fled to my 
beloved, my sequestered home. I sighed ardently for 
my emancipation. Of that God, who was, in Christ; re- 
conciling the world unto himself, I entertained not the 
smallest dread. But my coward spirit trembled before a 
combination of religious characters, headed by the clergy 
and armed for my destruction. Their zeal was mani- 
fested by their industriously propagating a variety of evil 
reports. I would detail them were they not so numer- 
ous. And, although all manner of evil had not yet 



160 



LIFE OF REV- JOHN MURRAYV 



been said of me, enough was said to implant a dreacf 
of some overwhelming termination. Thus my aversion 
to the path, into which I had been pressed became more 
imposing. I was ready to say, Lord, send, by whom 
thou wilt send, and in mercy, vouchsafe to grant me my 
final exit from those surrounding scenes, which embo- 
som the retirement of my friend. Often have I wept 
as I traversed the woods and groves of my patron, at 
the thought, that I could be indulged with the felicity 
of passing the remainder of my days amid those sylvan 
scenes; especially as it was the wish of the liberal master 
that I should so do. I became apprehensive, that my 
trials, in this new world, would surpass those, which 1 
had encountered in the old. These agonizing anticipa- 
tions prostrated me before the throne of the Almighty, 
imploring his protection; and from this high communi- 
cation with my Father God, my griefs have been assuag- 
ed and my wounded spirit healed* Urged by a strong 
sense of duty, I again visited Upper Freehold, to which 
place I had been repeatedly summoned. My acquaint- 
ance there was large and respectable, but it was the resi- 
dence of a high-priest, who treated me roughly. 1 was 
asked to breakfast at the house of one of his congregation, 
without the most remote hint, that I was to meet this great 
man; but I was hardly seated, when he was observed 
making his approaches; and, from some expressions of 
surprise, I was induced to believe he was totally unex- 
pected. I was astonished to see so many assembled; but 
supposed, that curiosity to see the strange preacher of 
so strange a doctrine, had drawn them together. I was 
however, afterwards assured, that the plan had been 
previously concerted. Mr. Tennant entered. We were 
introduced to each other. He drew a chair into the 
midst of the circle; and commanding into his countenance 
as much stern severity, as he could collect, he commenc- 
ed his studied operations. c I want to know, sir, by 
what authority you presume to preach in this place ? 'Pray, 
sir, by what authority do you thus presume to question 
me?, c I am, sir, placed here, by Almighty God, to look 
after the affairs of his church, and people; and I have 
aright to insist on knowing who, and what you are?* 
Well, sir, if you be placed here, as the vicegerent of 
Heaven, you should take care how you conduct; you 
have a great charge, and your responsibility is propor- 
tioned to its magnitude. But, sir, I am not assuming; 
I have no design upon your people; I am like a person 
in the time of harvest, who steps into the field, and 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



161 



binds up some sheaves, making no demand upon the 
proprietor of the grounds. I have never attempted to 
scatter your sheep, 1 have not even plucked a lock of 
their wool. 1 do not wish to govern, I only aim at being a 
help. c I do not like you a bit the better for ail this 
stuif. I insist on knowing, whether you came in at the 
door?' I wish to know, sir, what door you mean? 'I 
mean the door of the church; all, who come not in at 
that door, are thieves and robbers. c But, sir, I would 
know, what church you mean? The pope declares, 
there is no true church, save the one of which he is the 
head. The Episcopal bishop affirms, there is no true 
church, but that of which the king is the head. Do 
you, sir, mean either of these? 5 c No, sir, I mean the 
true church. Did you come in at that door?' If, sir, 
you do not tell me, what you mean by the true church, 
how can I answer you respecting the door? 6 Sir, 1 will 
have no evasions. Did you, or did you not, come in at the 
door? 5 Jesus Christ says: c I am the door; by me, if any 
man enter, he shall he saved. 5 Do you mean this door, 
sir? £ No, sir, I mean the door of the church. 5 Is not 
Jesus Christ the door of the church, sir? c No, sir.' 
Well, sir, although there be many preachers, who have 
not entered at this door, you will not, I trust, esteem a 
preacher the less, for having the privilege to go in and 
out at this door. c Sir, I have nothing to do with this; 
I wish to know, whether you have church authority for 
preaching? that is, whether you came properly in at the 
door? 5 Sir, I have the same authority for preaching 
which the apostle Paul had; he received his mission by 
the will of God, so have I. e Ay, sir, give us the same 
miracles Paul wrought, and we will believe you. 5 If the 
power of working miracles were necessary to prove a 
right to preach the gospel, perhaps you, sir, would be 
also at a loss to prove your own right, either to preach, 
or thus to question a fellow creature. c Sir, you are a 
deceitful, hypocritical man. If you had come properly 
in at the door, I should have received you; but you are 
an impostor, I pronounce you an impostor. 5 That is 
more than you know, sir, and I add, more than I know 
myself; but if we cannot agree about the church and the 
door, blessed be God ! we can agree in one fundamen- 
tal point: While we were yet sinners, Christ Jesus died 
for us, and while we were enemies, we were reconciled to 
God by the death of his Son. The old gentleman start- 
ed from his seat, and, running round the apartment, 
exclaimed, in a loud and thundering voice, to those who 



162 



JLIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY* 



were without: f Come in, and hear gibberish, gibberish^ 
gibberish.' I was astonished, and when he had so far 
spent his rage, as to remain for one moment silent, I 
looked full in his face, and asked: Pray; sir, what lan- 
guage do you make use of ? Is it possible, that you, a 
clergyman, highly distinguished, the head of the Pres- 
bytery, and now in the evening of life, should be so lit- 
tle acquainted with the scriptures, as to call the language 
of revelation, gibberish? 6 You know nothing about rev- 
elation; their never was an individual of the human 
race, that ever had any interest in Christ, or in God, 
until they had repentance and faith.' Pardon me, sir: 
you do not believe this yourself. c I say, I do. Excuse 
me, sir; you certainly do not. 6 Give me leave to tell 
you, you have a great deal of impudence, thus to talk to 
me*' Nay, sir, I do not wish to offend; I wish you to 
reconsider your assertion; I am confident, you do not 
believe it; and I am confident, you will have the good- 
ness to own it, before I quit this apartment. c Let me 
tell you young man you have the greatest stock of assur- 
ance, I have ever met with in any young person. I 
tell you again, there never was an individual of the hu- 
man race, who left this world without faith and repent- 
ance, who ever had any interest in Christ, or ever tasted 
happiness.' Not one? c No sir, not one.' Oh! sir, I 
am very sorry you compel me to make you to retract this 
affirmation. Turning to the company, he required them 
to say, whether they did not think my insolence surpass- 
ed credibility? The company were silent, and, after a 
pause, I said: I know, sir, if you believe Calvinistic 
principles, you believe some infants may be eternally 
lost; but no Calvinist denies, that some infants are in- 
terested in Christ, and eternally blessed, although they 

Fassed out of time, without repentance or faith. c Sir, 
never thought of infants.' So I imagined; and it was 
therefore, sir, I took the liberty to say, you did not believe 
what you advanced. c But I believe it with respect to all 
besides infants'. No, sir, pardon me, you do not. Again 
he was exceeding angry, until I mentioned idiots. c I 
did not think of idiots.' I believe, you did not; but, my 
good sir, would it not be as well, if you were always to 
think, before you speak? c Again I say, I am astonish- 
ed at your impudence; I could not have believed a young 
man, like you, could have had so much impudence.' I dare 
Say, sir, you are disappointed; you expected to have 
met a timid, poor, destitute stranger, who would have 
been confounded by noise, and such cogent arguments, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



163 



as gibberish, gibberish, repeatedly vociferated; you ex- 
pected, I should not have dared to utter a syllable; you 
have been pleased to treat me very roughly; you know 
not, but you have been pouring vinegar into wounds 
already sore; you have, sir, been vexing the stranger; 
and without any provocation on my part. 1 Ay, ay, this 
is the language of all impostors. 5 

Thus ended my morning repast. I was very much 
hurt, yet 1 reaped advantage from this new trial. Re- 
turning to my lodgings, I experienced the most painful sen- 
sations, but the rebuff, 1 had received, operated as usual, 
it drew me nearer to my God, and, pouring out my heart 
in secret before the Father of my spirit, I obtained what 
the favor of the clergy could never give — consolation and 
peace in believing. 

My conduct at this breakfasting conference was repre- 
sented in such a point of view, as increased the number 
of my friends; and clerical gentleman, in this place and 
its environs, forbore direct attacks; but the tongue of the 
private slanderer w r as busily employed. A gentleman of 

C , the Rev. Mr. S , repeatedly attended my 

public labors; addressed me after preaching, continued 
some time in conversation with me, and appointed a day, 
on which he pressed me to dine with him. I accepted 
his politeness with gratitude, and was punctual to the 
time. Mr. S received me with manifest satisfac- 
tion; we were alone, and we passed many hours most 

pleasantly. Mr. S- seemed solicitous, that I should 

view him, neither as a sceptic, nor a caviller, but simply 
an enquirer after truth. He asked me many questions, 
which I answered as clearly as I was able; and he ap 
peared sometimes dissatisfied, sometimes silenced. Upon 
the whole, his deportment was gentlemanly, and I could 
not forbear regarding him, as a sensible illumined Chris 
tian. On my departure he urged me to consider his 

house my home, whenever I visited C ; waited on 

me while I mounted my horse, pressed my hand, and, 
with much apparent devotion, supplicated the blessing of 
Heaven upon me. On recurring to my journal, I find 
my notice of this interview concluded as follows: Thus 
far am I brought on my way rejoicing; the Lord is my Sun 
and Shield; blessed be the name of my God! Yet no 

sooner was I out of view, than this same Mr. S 

ordered his horse, and posting to every respectable fa- 
mily in his parish, informed them, that, with all my 
cunning, he had outwitted me; that he had asked me 
to dine, and, by flattery and carresses, had thrown me 



164 



LIFE OP REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



off my guard, and obtained a complete knowledge of my 
principles. Well, dear sir, and what are his principles?' 
O! truly shocking! horrid! most horrid! I dare not re- 
late them, you shall not be contaminated by the recital; 
it would be dangerous in the extreme. Nor was this 
enough. Being a member of the Presbytery, he wrote a 
circular letter, addressing every leading associate, which 
effectually steeled all hearts, and, so far as his influence 
extended, barred every door against me. C alumnies of 
various descriptions were disseminated; rancor became 
uncommonly prolific; astonishing efforts were made to 
destroy my reputation; but God was with me, and his 
spirit was my never-failing support. In the midst of these 
fiery trials, I passed on: succeeding weeks and months 
rolled away, while my days were appropriated to my 
beloved home, to different parts of the Jersies, Philadel- 
phia, New York, and many of the intervening towns, 
scattered between those cities. 

In the commencement of the Autumn of 1773, I was 
strongly induced to journey as far as Newport, in Rhode- 
Island; and having dropped a tear, at parting with my 
faithful friend, I commended him to the care of Heaven, 
and began my new tour of duty. The chilly mornings 
and evenings, of even the first autumnal month, gave me 
to experience the want of an outside garment. I was, 
however, determined not to solicit human aid; this I be- 
lieved, would be taking the business out of the hand of 
my Master. If God had sent me, he would put it into 
the hearts of his people to supply me: yet I did not cal- 
culate, that this want would be supplied, until I reach- 
ed New York. I believed I had in that city a friend, 
who would derive pleasure from administering to my 
necessities. But when I was preparing to leave Bruns- 
wick, a person entered the parlor, displayed a number 
of patterns, requested I would make a choice for a 

freat-coat; and asked, how long I should tarry in town? 
told him, I should leave town early on the succeeding 
morning: 'Well, sir, 5 he returned, 'your coat shall be 
ready. 5 I asked, by whom he was sent? ' Sir, I was 
ordered not to say by whom. 5 It is very well, I know 
who sent you. 'Do you, sir? 5 Yes, sir, it was God, 
my Father; who, having all hearts in his hand, has 
stimulated your employer. Early the following morn- 
ing, the coat was brought home; I was deeply affected, 
and laying my hand upon it, I said: Henceforward thou 
shalt be my monitor; whenever I feel my heart despond- 
ing, in silent, but persuasive language, thou shalt say: 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



165 



' Cast thy care upon God, for he careth for thee.' It 
was not so much the supply of this pressing want, that 
pleased me, as the recognition of the immediate hand 
of paternal Deity, who thus vouchsafed to own and bless 
my mission. On my arrival in New York, I learned, 
to my great astonishment, that the friend, on whom my 
hopes of a winter garment had rested, was become my 
enemy! I was greatly pained, he was very dear to me; 
but a religious slanderer had been at his ear, and 
had prejudiced him against me. I lost him forever — 
alas! alas! how many such losses have I sustained, 
since I became a promulgator of the truth as it is in 
Jesus. 

Leaving New York, I postponed my journey to New- 
port, passed through East Jersey, and stopped at Amboy, 
where I had many friends. Sitting one evening at tea 
with a lady, she complained, that her maid had quitted 
her, having been seduced from her duty, by a foot soldier. 
This immediately reminded me of Mrs. Trinbath, the 
poor unhappy lady, at whose house, in Cork, I had, in 
company with Mr. Whitefield, and others, been so splen- 
didly entertained. I related the mournful tale, when the 
lady assured me she knew the unhappy creature; she had 
seen her in Amboy, and that she was now in New York 
in a most wretched situation. I immediately conceived 
a hope, that, if I could obtain an interview with her, I 
might prevail upon her to return to her widowed mother, 
and to her children ; and although her husband was no more, 
she might yet, in some measure, retrieve the past. Alas! 
alas ! I did not calculate, that I was thus making provi- 
sion for the most serious calamity, which, during my 
sojourn in this new world, had until then overtaken me. 
The following day, intent on my purpose, I took passage 
in the packet for New York; accompanied by the Ser- 
jeant major of the regiment to which the fellow be- 
longed, with whom this deluded woman lived. I asked 
him, if he knew such a person ? Yes, he knew her, and 
she was in a very wretched condition. I sighed from the 
inmost recesses of my soul, while I listened to his account 
of her manner of living. I begged to know if I could see 
her. Yes, he could conduct me to her abode; but on our 
arrival, passing over the common, near the gaol, to the 
residence of this poor creature, we chanced to meet her 
infamous seducer, who, not having heard of the death of 
Mr. Trinbath, immediately concluded I was that injured 
husband, come to reclaim my wretched wanderer. Ua- 
der this impression, he hastened home, and effectually 
15 



166 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

secreted her, before we reached the door. I was disap- 
pointed, but I informed a poor creature in the house, 
that I would call, upon the ensuing day, at one o'clock, 
when I hoped I might obtain an interview. I was, the 
next day, punctual to the appointment; but, instead of 
the misguided woman, I received a letter, directed to Mr. 
Trinbath, entreating most earnestly, that I would not at- 
tempt to see her ; that, after treating me as she had done, 
she never would see me more: and that, if I persisted in 
pursuing her, she would leave the city, and, taking with 
her, miserable children, they would all perish together, 
for she would, rather than meet my eye, suffer a thousand 
deaths. I was beyond measure shocked at this letter; I 
saw the absolute necessity of seeing and convincing her 
of her error; but how was this to be effectuated? I 
could devise no plan. I told the old woman, it was a 
most capital mistake; that I was not the person she sup- 
posed. O, said she, you need say nothing about that, sir; 
every body knows you are her husband, and every body 
pities you, poor gentleman, that you should have such a 
wife; but she has bad advisers, and I dare say y if you 
can see and forgive her, (and every body says, that if 
you did not intend to do so, you would never have sought 
her,) she will again be a very good woman. I was pro- 
voked beyond endurance; but every appearance of irrita 
tion was imputed to my disappointment, and consequent 
resentment. My soul was narrowed up by agonizing 
distress; unable to convince the old woman, I returned 
to my lodgings. My friends perceived the anguish of my 
spirits, for which they were well able to account; they, 
however, carefully avoided the subject. At last, not 
being able to control my emotions, I burst into tears. 
They were alarmed. ( What is the matter? 5 I circum- 
stantially related the whole story, and dwelt upon my 
sufferings, consequent upon my inability to see Mrs. 
Trinbath, and convince her of her mistake. My friends 
appeared relieved, and proposed my writing to her, and 
leaving it at her lodgings; she will see it is not the hand- 
writing of her husband. The propriety of this measure 
was obvious; I asked the gentleman, if he would accom- 
pany me? £ Most gladly. 5 I wrote immediately, labor- 
ing to cuiivince this unfortunate woman of her error, 
and assuring her, that my friend, Mr.Trinbath, had been 
many years deadj that if she would but give me a meet- 
ing, for a single moment, she would acknowledge she 
had nothing to fear from me. This letter was ineffectual^ 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY". 



167 



sue was positive it was all a deception, and that, with a 
view of deceiving her, I had employed some other pen. 

This story was a sweet morsel to my religious foes. It 
was painted in the most odious colors, and industriously 
exhibited, They declared, the woman was unquestiona- 
bly my wife; and that, on account of the treatment she 
had received from her barbarous husband, she had pre- 
ferred putting herself under the protection of a common 
soldier; that she had attended church, upon a lecture 
evening, and upon seeing me, her husband, in the pulpit, 
she had. shrinked aloud, and fainted. This, and a thou- 
sand other falsehoods, were circulating through the city. 
My humane friends, at length, interfered; they solicited 
the commanding officer to oblige the fellow, with *vhom 
the woman lived, to produce her; she approached with 
dread apprehension; a large company was collected, 
spectators of the scene. She caught a glance, and ex- 
claiming, in a tremulous accent, It is, it is he — imme- 
diately fainted. Curiosity, and humanity, combined to 
recover her; she was led into the parlor. I appeared full 
before her, entreating her to take a view of my face; she 
did so, and no words can express her confusion; her ac- 
knowledgments were repeated and copious; she did not 
recollect, ever to have seen me before. I was most hap- 
py in the result of this untoward business, which had 
nearly annihilated my anxiety respecting her restoration, 
to her connexions. Indeed I was assured, no entreaties 
would procure her return to Cork. So many had wit- 
nessed an ecclaircisement, so honorable to me, that I 
fondly believed it would be attached to the narration; but 
alas ! there was not a thousandth part of the pains taken 
to publish the truth, as had been taken to spread far and 
wide the slander; here it was the still voice of friendship; 
there it was Slander with her thousand tongues. None 
but God can tell, how much I have suffered, from the 
various trials, I have encountered. Again, I mournfully 
acknowledged, that my object in coming to America was 
not in any view obtained; that my grand desideratum 
appeared further and further from my reach; again • I 
wished most ardently to be in England; yea, in the very 
scenes from which I had escaped, if I might thus be de- 
livered from the distracted situation, in which I was in- 
volved; and the more I contemplated the indignation, and 
power of the clergy, the more frequently I exclaimed, 
Doubtless 1 shall one day perish by the hand of my ene- 
my. Yet, in the darkest night of my affliction, my gra- 
cious God frequently vouchsafed to grant me peace and 



S6B LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

joy in believing that His almighty power was sufficient 
for me; and, in the pulpit, whatever was my previous 
situation, either mental, or coporeal, when engaged in 
the investigation of divine truth, I was not only tranquil 
but happy: And this happiness I often enjoyed; for an 
ardent curiosity obliged the people every where to hear; 
and, when a pulpit could not be obtained, a private 
house, a court-house, a wood, answered the purpose; and 
I rejoiced, while contemplating the irradiations of divine 
truth, bursting through the dark clouds of prejudice, and 
with such imposing splendor, and could only be effectu- 
ated by Omnipotent power. 

I received frequent and most pressing invitations to 
visit New-England. During my residence in New York, 
I became known to many gentlemen of Connecticut; and 
I was requested to stop, and deliver my testimony in 
various places, along the road. I resumed my purpose 
of visiting Newport, determining to proceed thither with 
all possible despatch. I had, however, promised to stop 
at a friend's house, in Milford, and at another's, in Guil- 
ford; at which places I preached to very large congrega- 
tions; several strangers, having seen me elsewhere, 
recognized me, and entreated me to accompany them to 
their respective homes; but my object was Newport. 
Many individuals, from Norwich, departed from Guilford 
with me; they gave me to understand, that, having made 
part of my audience, on the preceding evening, they 
were extremely desirous I should proceed with them to 
Norwich. We passed the day very agreeably together, 
conversing with great freedom. About sunset, we reach- 
ed New-London, where it was my resolution to bid my 
new associates adieu; but they so earnestly importuned 
me to go on, one gentleman in particular, that, accepting 
his proffered kindness, I was that night lodged in his hos- 
pitable dwelling. He soon became, and ever after con- 
tinued, my steadfast friend. Many, in Norwich, received 
me with great kindness; a house of worship was provid- 
ed; but it not being sufficiently spacious, the doors of the 
great meeting-house were thrown open, and never after- 
wards shut against me. Thus, in this instance, the zeal 
of the people has been sufficiently imposing, to prevail 
against ministerial opposition. The Friends I obtained, 
in Norwich, were, in truth, inestimable; some individuals 
are not yet called home; they remain unwavering in the 
belief of the truth, as it is in Jesus; and in their affection- 
ate attachment to its feeble advocate. At Norwich, I 
Was solicited to preach in the meeting-house of Mr. Hart, 



X.IFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



169 



of Preston; to which place many of my new friends 
accompanied me. Having passed the night at Preston, 
on the succeeding morning, I recommenced my journey, 

with the Rev. Mr. H ,* of Newport. The distance 

was between 30 and 40 miles; but as Mr. H , was 

going home, he would not stop to dine on the road. In 

the course of the day, Mr. H thus questioned me: 

* Well, sir, I suppose you will preach in Newport?' 
Very likely, sir. c You have friends there, T presume?' 
No, sir, I do not know a single soul. c You have letters 
of recommendation, perhaps? 5 Not a line, sir. 6 Where 
then do you intend to go, and what do you intend to do?' 
I have laid no plans, sir. * I promise you, you shall not 
preach in my meeting.' I should be very much surpris- 
ed, if I did, sir. c And I suppose, you think you are 
called of God, to go to Newport?' I think it is not un- 
likely, sir. c I believe, you will find yourself mistaken.' 
It is possible. c Suppose you should find no place to 
preach in, what would you do then?' Devote myself to 
private conversation. c But, suppose you could find no 
one to converse with?' Then i would turn about, and 
come back again. 6 But what would you think of your 
faith?' Call it fancy. But at present, I think I shall 
preach the gospel in Newport; and, although I am an 
utter stranger, knowing no one, nor known by any one; 
yet I expect, before I leave the place, to have many 
friends. c Ay, these are fine fancies indeed.' Had you 
not better suspend your decision until you witness the 
result? will it not then be full time to determine, whether 
it be faith or fancy? ( If it should not be, as I predict, I 
should not be ashamed to own my error: if it should, you 
ought to blush for your unwarrantable confidence. c But 
as it is not impossible, you may preach in that city, and 
that some of my people may be among the number of 
your hearers, I think I have a right to question you.' If 
God will give me leave to preach to his people, I am 
content. 'What do you mean by that, sir?' Your ob- 
servation brought to my mind, what on a certain occasion, 
a very distinguished servant of God said to his master, 
when he was told to go down and see what his people 
were doing. O Lord, they are not my people, they are 
thy people. However, Moses was not settled on your 

* Nearly the whole of this conversation was published in the first 
volume. Letter Fourth, of ' Letters, and Sketches of Sermons.' In- 
stead of the letter A. the letter H.... ; which was the original and true 
initial; is now substituted. 

15* 



170 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



plan. c Well, sir, I look upon my people to be God's 
people.' You are perfectly right, sir, so indeed they arej 
and if I speak to them at all, I shall speak to them, in 
that character. £ Well, sir, as you call yourself a preach- 
er of the gospel, and may, as I have said preach to my 
people; it is proper I should know what ideas you have 
of gospel. Tell me, sir, what is gospel?' 1 am happy 
in being able to give you a direct answer. The gospel, 
sir, is a solemn declaration, given upon the oath of Je- 
hovah, that, in the Seed of Abraham, all the nations 
should be blessed. 'Is that all you know of gospel? 
Would it not, my good sir, require a very long time to 
inform mankind, who, and what, that Seed is; how, and 
in what manner all the nations of the earth are, and shall 
be blessed therein; and what blessings they are blessed 
with, in Christ Jesus? The apostle Paul, although he 
labored more abundantly, than his brethren, found this 
vast, this important subject, abundantly sufficient for his 
whole life; and those, who are blessed in that Seed, will 
find the contemplation of that blessedness, which they 
shall be blessed with, in Him, sufficient to furnish a song, 
which, although, never ending, will be ever new. c If 
such be your views, you know nothing at all of gospel. 5 
You could not so absolutely determine this matter, if you 
yourself were not acquainted with the meaning of the 
term, gospel. Tell me then, sir, if you please, what is 
gospel? £ Why, sir, this is gospel: He, that believeth, 
shall be saved, and he, that believeth not shall be 
damned.' Indeed, sir, I had thought, the literal, simple 
meaning of the term gospel was, glad tidings. Which 
part of the passage you have cited, is gospel, that which 
announces salvation, or that which announces damnation? 

6 Well then, if you please this is gospel: He that believ- 
eth shall be saved.' Believeth what, sir? 6 That.' What, 
sir? That I tell you. What, sir? < That, I tell you : He 
that believeth, shall be saved. 7 Believeth what, sir? What 
is he to believe? 'Why that, I tell you.' I wished, sir, 
to treat this investigation seriously; but, as you seem to 
be disposed to be rather ludicrous, we will, if you please, 
dismiss the subject. c No, sir, I do not mean to be ludi- 
crous; I am very serious.' Well, sir, if so, then I beg 
leave to ask, what is it I am to believe; the believing of 
which will save me? ( That Jesus Christ made it possible 
for sinners to be saved.' By what means? ' By believing. 5 
Believing what? 'That.' What? < That Jesus Christ 
made it possible for sinners to be saved.' By what means 
is it possible that sinners may be saved? ' By believing, I 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



171 



tell you.' But the devils believe; will their believing save 
them? 6 No, sir. 5 Suppose I believe, that Jesus Christ 
made it possible to save sinners; will that save me? 
'No, sir. 5 Then, sir, let me ask, what am I to believe, 
the believing of which will save me ? c Why, sir, you 
must believe the gospel, that Jesus made it possible for 
sinners to be saved. 5 But, by what means? c By believ- 
ing, 5 Believing what? ( That, I tell you. 5 

Mr. H could not but be conscious the ground he 

had taken was untenable. Had he answered in scripture 
language, that the truth to be believed, and which we 
make God a liar by not believing, was that Christ had 
given himself a ransom for all, to be testified in due time; 
that he had absolutely tasted death for every man; and that 
every man should be made alive in Christ Jesus, &c. &c, 
the inference was unavoidable, nor man, nor devil could un- 
do, what God had done; the power exists not, which can 
set aside the decrees of God. If the Redeemer did not 
taste death for all; if He has not purchased all; then 
those, for whom He has not tasted death, whom he has 
not purchased, have no right to believe He has; and 
were they so to believe, they must indubitably believe a 

lie. But, finding the temper of Mr. H rise higher 

and higher, every time I repeated my question; I endea- 
vored to bring the matter to a conclusion, by observing, 
that I was astonished to find a master in Israel, and a 
writer too, either not able, or not willing to answer a 
simple question, viz : what I am to believe is the founda- 
tion of my salvation? what am I to believe procures my 
justification in the sight of God? c And I am astonished 
at your blasphemy. 5 This is in character, sir; men of 
your description were long since fond of fixing this charge 
on both the Master, and his witnesses; but, remember, 

sir, if I have blasphemed, it is only Mr. H , whom I 

have blasphemed. ( Well, sir, I believe I have gone too 
far; I will, if you please, take back the charge. 5 With 
all my heart, sir. ' I do not doubt, you may be admired 
in Newport a whole fortnight. 5 That no doubt will be 
fourteen days longer than you would wish. Arriving in 

sight of Newport, Mr. H said: 6 There sir, is my 

meeting-house; at a little distance from thence is my 
dwelling-house, and my friends are multiplied. 5 Well, 
sir, I have no home, meeting-house, nor friend, in New- 
port. Yet, 1 repeat, before I leave that city, I expect to 
have more than one home, and many friends. c Well, 
now I think of it, there is one man, who has a little place, 
in which, possibly, you may get leave to preach; I will 



iM LIFE OP REVr JORtf MURRAY- 

direct you to a man, who has some acquaintance witi* 
him. 5 I will thank you, sir, to inform me where my 
horse may be taken care of; for myself, I have little 
concern. f I promise you, horse-keeping is very high 
in Newport. 5 That, sir, is very sad tidings to me,, 
for I promise you, my finances are very low. Some 
very bitter speeches were made; and I regretted, that I 
was so unfortunate, as to have taken the journey with 

Mr. H . Your people, said I, are leavened with the 

leaven of the Pharisees, and you seem to be leavened 
with the leaven of Herod. 6 What do you mean by the 
leaven of Herod? 5 I mean the nature of Herod 'How 
does that apply? 5 Some persons urged our Master to 
fly, in consequence of Herod 5 s seeking his life. Go r 
said He, tell thai fox, I toork to-day and to-morrow &c. 
&c. Our Master denominated Herod a fox, for the pur- 
pose of giving an idea of his nature. What is a fox ? a 
creature that lives upon the spoil; but he is dependent 
upon the secrecy of the night, and, we are told, in order 
the more effectually to cover his designs, he sometimes 
imitates the watch-dog, thus endeavoring to make it ap- 
pear, he is defending the property of the husbandman, 
while, under the guise of watchful care for others, he is 
covertly acting for himself, till the morning dawns, till 
the light appears, and then his labor ends. This is the 
leaven of Herod, and it was of the nature of this insidious 
animal, that our Lord cautioned his disciples to beware. 
; Well, there is something ingenious in that I confess. 5 
We reached the ferry a little before sunset, and on land- 
ing at Newport: i There said Mr. H , pointing to a 

small shop, If you will call on that man, he will give you 
direction. 5 I Avalked on, stopped at the door, and hold- 
ing the bridle in my hand, asked the man behind the 
counter, if he would be so obliging as to inform me, 
which was the best inn for keeping horses? 'Please to 
walk in, sir. 5 T fastened my horse and entered the shop, 
and seeing the man look very gloomy, and hearing him 
sigh very bitterly, I concluded he must be under the pres- 
sure of some heavy calamity; and, as no woman appear- 
ed, I suspected the poor fellow must have lost his wife, 
and my sympathies were very powerfully excited. I was 
however solicitous about my horse, and again requested 
the requisite information. ' Do not make yourself uneasy* 
sir, my little boy will be here in a few moments, when I 
will send him with your horse, and you will be so oblig- 
ing as to tarry here, and drink tea; my wife is out of 
town, and of course things will not be so well, as if she 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



173 



were here. 5 I was very much relieved by this intelli- 
gence, and sat down. ' How far have you travelled to- 
day, sir? 5 From Preston, in Connecticut, sir. c Did you 
come alone, sir? 5 No, sir, I came in company with a 

Mr. H , one of your teachers; I parted with him at 

the ferry. e Did he not ask you to his house? 5 No, sin 
Well, sir, I hope you will believe, there is not another 
man in this town, who would have been so deficient; you 
must, however, tarry here to-night, and we will take es- 
pecial care of your horse. 5 You are very obliging, sir; 
but I had rather, if you please, attend to my horse my- 
self. i Will you, sir, be so good, as to leave this matter 
to me, and take some refreshment yourself? You are -a 
public character, and I have been accustomed to attend 
to public characters. 5 How do you know I am a public 
character? there is nothing in my appearance, which in^ 
dicates it. 

c The moment you came to my door, it seemed as if 
some one had said, The person who addresses you is a 
preacher ; take kind notice of him ; and I immediately 
determined to obey the impulse. 5 This instance of pro- 
vidential care nearly overpowered me, I was the more 
affected by thisbrief manifestation, as it closed a very dark 
day. It spoke to my wounded mind, the language of 
assurance ; my Divine Master was with me, and had 
prepared the heart of this man to receive me, and this 
soothing consideration gave me inexpressible pleasure. 
Had I been in a clerical dress, or had the smallest ves- 
tige of those habiliments been discernible, I should have 
believed those externals had produced their effect. But, 
divested as I was; of every thing which could speak to the 
eye, I could not but greatly rejoice in this instance of recog- 
nising goodness, and my full soul glowed with fervent 
and devotional gratitude. My cup of tea was mingled 
with my tears; but they were tears of joy, of sacred rap- 
ture. It was like the priest leaving me, and the good 
Samaritan taking me up; and the oil and wine, thus 
poured into my lacerated bosom, was most salutary, truly 
refreshing. 

My kind host summoned a number of his friends to 
pass the evening; they all appeared very gloomy, and 1 
had sympathy for their situation. After being introduc- 
ed, they continued for some time silent, and sighed in 
their turns very bitterly. Those sighs, however, although 
signs, were not proofs, of sorrow; it was the custom for 
very religious people to be very melancholy, and these 
were very religious people; so much so, that I afterwards 



174 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



discovered , there was no society in town, with which 
they could conscientiously associate. It was proposed, I 
should narrate, my experiences, that they might judge if I 
were a child of God. 1 very readily accommodated myself 
to their wishes, and gave them a sketch of some memmo- 
rable scenes in my life. When I closed, a profound 
silence interrupted only by sighs, succeeded: at last, one 
affirmed, I was not a child of God, my experiences were 
not of the true kind, he could not go with me; a second 
pronounced, I was a child of God, for he felt me as I 
proceeded. Being thus divided, they knew not on what 
to determine; at last, it was proposed to apply to Mr, 

D for his meeting-house. This was the very place 

pointed out by Mr. H . I knew his design was to 

ruin me, and therefore, without hesitation, I said I did 
not feel a freedom to speak in the proposed place Well, 
would I preach in the room, in which we were sitting; 
many had so done, and why not me? This- also I 
rejected, it was too much confined. They pronounced 
me very difficult; they did not believe, I should find any 
other place. I assured them, I was not anxious in this 
respect. If God had sent me, he would provide a place 
for me; if he had not, I was willing to return, whence I 
came. c Perhaps God has provided you a place by di- 
recting us to make these offers.' No, sir, if God had 
directed you to make these offers, and had thought proper 
I should deliver my message in either of the places men- 
tioned, he would have disposed my heart to embrace 
them; but this I feel He has not done. They pronounced 
me very odd, and took their leave; but the master of the 
house, and one of his friends, concei ving there was some- 
thing uncommon in me, my manner, and my matter, 
continued with me in conversation the greater part of 
the night, and, although 1 had travelled all day, yet I 
found no inconvenience from this additional fatigue. 

After breakfast on the ensuing day, I walked round 
the town, and was much pleased with its situation; its 
harbor, and perspective views, delighted me, and, al- 
though a stranger, with only a few shillings in my 
pocket, my bosom was as tranquil, as if in my own res- 
idence, and master of thousands. Blessed be God! I 
have never yet experienced much solicitude about this 
world, or the gifts, which it has to bestow. It never 
entered my head, or heart, that I should not be suppli- 
ed with whatever was necessary for me; I had fared 
hard, and I could again accommodate myself to the vi- 
cissitudes of life — yea, and without a murmur. I con- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



175 



tinued perambulating the streets, until the hour of dining, 
when i returned to my lodgings. 6 Well, sir, the com- 
mittee of Dr. 's meeting have been here, to engage 

you to supply their pulpit to-morrow, — Sunday, — and 
they will call for your answer in the evening. 3 J was, 
I confess, astonished; but the evening produced the 
committee., and 1 acceded to their wishes. One of the 
gentlemen pressed me to return with him, and take 
up my abode at his house, during my continuance in 
Newport; 1 did so, and was soon domesticated in hi3 
family, which continued my occasional home for many, 

very many years. Doctor S was absent, and it 

was the business of the committee to supply the desk, 
till his return; my appearance was opportune, and the 
people were generally pleased. 1 was requested to pub- 
lish a lecture for the next day. I did so, and the con- 
gregation was crowded, and attentive. I informed the 
audience, that 1 purposed tarrying in New r port two weeks, 
during which time I was ready to unite with them, in 
consulting the sacred writings, as often as they pleased* 
but, if I delivered any more lectures, it must be in the 
evening; my reason for which was, that there were 
many laboring persons, who could not attend, without 
loss of time, — and loss of time to them, was loss of prop- 
erty. I was then informed, that when Mr. Whitefield 
was last there, the parish had passed a vote against 
evening lectures. I replied: The parish has an indubi- 
table right to adhere to their vote,; but they must excuse 
me, if 1 thought it my duty to abide by my determination. 
The parish met, re-considered their vote, and request- 
ed me to preach in the evening. Here then I preached, 
every evening, until the Doctor's return; to whom my 
kind, honest host, requested me to accompany him on a 
visit, insisting upon my promising, that I would return 
with him. Simple man, because he, a hearer, was pleas- 
ed, he conceived his minister would also be pleased, and 
that he would press me to abide at his house ; I prom- 
ised him, and he exulted in having gained his point. 
The Doctor received me with cool civility; asked me a 
great many questions; spoke of my pulpit talents, in the 
way I expected he would speak of them; and finally ex- 
pressed regret that he could not ask my assistance on the 
ensuing day, — Sunday, — as there were so many individ- 
uals who would be offended. My friend was astonish- 
ed. I was not. My friend observed, there was but one 
in the congregation, who was opposed to my preaching 
in their meeting-house; and, he added, if I did not preach, 




176 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY. 



the people would be greatly disappointed. The Doctor 
would not hear him, and we parted, without my receiv- 
ing even an invitation to repeat my call. My guileless 
host expressed great surprise. 6 So good a man as the 
Doctor; why, I imagined, he would have taken you into 
his arms, and never, if he could help it, have permitted 
you to lodge any where but under his roof.' From this 
moment, I had much to grieve me in Newport, for, al- 
though my friends were numerous, and my enemies but 
few, yet those few were uncommonly industrious. 

On Monday morning, one of the committee, who had 
first engaged me to preach, called upon me at my lodg- 
ings; and informed me, that there came on Saturday night, 
from New York, a reverend divine, who had given me 
a most horrid character; he had said many things, which 
he hoped and believed were not true. Pray, sir, where 
is this good man? 'He is, sir, at the house of Mr. 
Rogers, father of the Rev. Mr. Rogers.' Will you, sir, 
call upon this gentleman with me? ( Certainly, sir, but 
you had better first take breakfast.' By no means, I 
may miss him, and I want to see him in your presence; 
We hurried off immediately, but alas! he had left town 
at break of day; he had just cast out firebrands, arrows, 
and death, and withdrawn from the investigation, upon 
which he had reason to calculate. The parade was full of 
people; the reports ran like wild fire; fame had blown 
the trumpet of slander, and, at the house of Mr. Rog- 
ers, many were assembled. I regretted, that the rever- 
end calumniator had flown : I wished to be tried in the 
presence of the people. I requested, however, that they 
would exhibit the charges, lodged against me. They 
did so, and they consisted of the following items: — 1st, I 
had formerly labored for my living: 2dly, 1 was a mar- 
ried man; 3dly, I had children; 4thly, I had been a stage 
player; and 5thly, I had sung songs. Upon which I ob- 
served: Perhaps my denial of these charges may answer 
little purpose; yet, as in the presence of heaven, you will 
allow me to say, that, although I have made some unsuc 
cessful attempts to obtain an honorable competency, yet 
I have, alas! and it is with extreme sorrow I make the 
declaration, I have in this world, neither wife nor child; 
I solemnly assure you, I never was an actor upon any 
stage; I ackowledge I have sung songs, I was once pro- 
nounced a good singer; yet I do not recollect, that I ever 
sang any bad songs, indeed I have been so long out of 
the habit of song-singing, that I do not remember what 
songs I have sung. I do not, however, admit, that if p 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



177 



these charges could be substantiated, they ought to cri- 
minate me. It cannot be a crime to labor; Six days 
shalt thou labor. ' The apostle Paul labored with his 
own hands. Many of you are married men; many of 
you have children; many, in pursuit of business, quit for 
a season both wives and children; and if I had relin- 
quished the stage for the life of a religionist, it should 
be considered as a testimony in my favor. With regard 
to song-singing, while music makes a part even of divine 
worship, a sentimental song could not be supposed detri- 
mental to the interests of morality. I requested to know, 
if there were any other charges; and was answered with 
a murmur of applause, 6 none, sir, none.' The tide now 
turned in my favor, and the people were astonished, that 
they had annexed the smallest consequence to those re- 
ports. 

I had now in Newport a very respectable circle of 
friends, and the occurrence, thus briefly recorded, aug- 
mented their affectionate attentions. As a testimony 
how little they regarded it, they made a party to go out 
in a number of carriages, and pass the day upon the 
island; and most delightfully did we enjoy ourselves. 
We left town in the midst of the tumult; but those who 
were present at the examination, mingling with their 
fellow citizens, gave them an account of what had pass- 
ed, and it was generally considered, as a plan to bar 
their pulpit against me; this irritated them and they 
determined it should not succeed. They dispatched a 
message to me; I could not be found. I returned in the 

evening, and received, by* the sexton of Doctor S 's 

meeting, an address, signed by a large number of influen- 
tial characters, earnestly requesting I would upon that 
evening, deliver a lecture. I consented; the bell an- 
nounced my consent; the congregation assembled, and 
the house was very full. I selected my subject from 
Isaiah c Who hath believed our reports I was divinely 
supported; my heart was very full; gratitude glowed in 
my bosom, gratitude to that Being, who had upon this, 
as well as upon many former occasions, so conspicuously 
appeared for me. 

Among other valuable acquisitions, which crowned my 
labors in Newport, was the friendship of Mr., afterwards 
General Varnum, who gave me, upon the succeeding 
morning, a letter to Mr. N. Brown, of Providence, for 
which place I departed. Mr Brown received me with 
much civility, and distinguished me by many acts of kind- 
ness. The Rev. Mr. Snow's meeting-house was thrown 



178 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



open; the congregations in Providence were large, I ac- 
quired many respectable friends, and my visit was truly 
pleasing. I contemplated extending my tour as far as 
Boston, but the season being far advanced, I postponed 
my purpose, and hastened back to my pleasant home 
Visiting my friends upon the road, I did not reach the 
dwelling of my patron, until the winter was at the door. 
This enduring friend began to fear he should eventually 
lose me; and in truth the pressing calls, made upon me, 
allowed me but little leisure to tarry with him. In the 
course of this winter, I made many visits ; but my little 
stock of money was nearly exhausted. Had I consented 
to the mode of collecting, then in practice, such was the 
zeal of my hearers, that I might have amassed large sums; 
but I had no family, I did not want money, I believed I 
should be less noxious as a preacher, if I levied no tax- 
es upon the people; and I was ambitious of being able to 
ask, Whose ox, or whose ass have I taken? Still, as I 
proceeded, the rancor of the clergy pursued me; this 
pained me to the soul, and I have passed many agonizing 
hours, originating from this inveterate source. I, how- 
ever, veiled those scenes of sorrow from the eye of the 
many; in fact, when engaged in conversation, I so un- 
reservedly enjoyed my friends, that I ceased, for the time 
being, to reflect upon my enemies or their enmity. I 
never left home, without increasing both the number of 
my friends and my enemies; and they were, individual- 
ly and collectively, very much in earnest, while every 
attempt to oppose the progress of truth became, in the 
hand of God, subservient to the purpose of opening the 
eyes of the people. 

I think it was in the January of 1773, that a most im- 
portunate solicitation drew me to Philadelphia; and, hav- 
ing frequently visited that city, I had many opportunities 
with strangers, collected there. Many bore with them to 
their respective homes, such an account of my doctrine 
and my manner, as excited much curiosity. I was repeat- 
edly and earnestly urged to proceed to Maryland; an 
eminent physician, by repeated letters, reiterated his solici- 
tations. A sense of duty imperiously insisted upon my 
accepting every invitation of the kind, to the extent of 
my power, and I consequently determined upon an im- 
mediate commencement of my journey to Maryland; 
accordingly my horse was produced at the door, when it 
occurred to me that I had no money. Well and what 
then? said I. 'You will not think of a journey in such 
circumstances? 5 said cold-hearted Prudence. 1 certainly 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



179 



will. f But how are you to get through a strange country, 
in which you have no acquaintance? 5 For shame; is 
this a time for these remarks? Do you not know, that 
God Almighty can, at all times, and in every place, open 
the heart; and that, if He be disposed to do any thing with 
me, or by me, he will most assuredly bring me on my 
way? c But had you not better let your friends in this 
city know your circumstances? They will unquestiona- 
bly make provision for you. 5 But this would be leaning 
upon an arm of flesh ; it would be making provision for 
myself. 5 c What will you do at the first stage? you 
will not be able to purchase any thing, either for your- 
self, or your horse.' If I meet with no support. I will 
return immediately; by this I shall know, if it ue the 
will of God I should proceed. ( And will you really 
go on in this way? 5 Most assuredly; and I was on the 
point of mounting my horse, when a gentleman crossed 
the street. Are you going out of town, sir? 5 Yes sir. 
( How far, pray: which way? 5 To Maryland, sir, to 
visit a place, which, as I am told, is eighty miles from 
this city. c Are you going alone, sir? 5 1 am, sir. c I 
wish I had known of your determination one hour since, 
I would certainly have accompanied you part of the way. 5 
Well sir, you can do that now; if you please, I will wait 
an hour. ( Will you ? then I will get ready as soon as 
possible. 5 The gentleman was punctual; in less than an 
hour he was on horseback; and we commenced our jour- 
ney together. We passed on to Chester, delighted with 
our ride, and dined luxuriantly at one of the best inns in 
the country. Here I expected rny fellow traveller would 
quit me; and prudence again questioned: 6 Will you not 
either return, or make known your situation? 5 I will do 
neither; I will trust in the Lord, and stay upon the God 
of my salvation. Our horses were ordered out, again we 
proceeded together, and our conversation was interesting, 
animated, delightful. In the middle of the afternoon, we 
made a second stage; here, said my companion, I had de- 
termined to leave you, but I find I am not able; I must 
proceed. We went on until evening, when we put up at 
the house of a friend of my fellow traveller, in Newark. 
This town contained an academy, in the hall of which I 
afterwards preached. We spent the night most agreea- 
bly, and although I expected to pursue the residue of my 
3ourney alone, my slumbers were unbroken through the 
night, and I arose happy in the thought, that I was ena- 
bled to cast my care upon God. 



ISO 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Here my friend, after commending me to the protection 
of Heaven, bade me adieu. I tarried until breakfast was 
over, when I requested my horse : it was brought to the 
door. I took the bridle in my hand. Prudence again 
was ready with her expostulations : 6 Well, and what are 
you to do now ? you have been thus far brought on by 
an obliging friend; you have fifty miles more to ride, 
through a country, not an individual in which you have 
ever seen, and you have not a penny in your pocket* 
Again, I say, am I not here, as in Philadelphia, under 
the care of that beneficent Being, who holds the universe 
in His hand? I will go on. Just as I raised my foot to 
the stirrup, the master of the house appeared. c One 
word, sir, if you please; step in for a moment.' I once 
more entered the hospitable dwelling. c You will, I hope, 
excuse me, sir; but, ever since I left my bed this morning, 
I have been strongly excited to do, what however I am 
afraid to mention, and what I had concluded I would not 
venture to do. But when I saw you in the act of mounting 
your horse, I could no longer withstand an irresistible 
impression, which impels me to ask your acceptance of 
this trifle: 5 — putting into my hands abundantly sufficient 
to bring me to the end of my journey. t You may not 
want this, sir; but you may meet with some individual, 
who does.' Could my spirit, at this moment forbear 
ecstatic prostration before the throne of my God, my 
Father? This was manifestly another instance of the 
interposition of my Divine Master. It was He, who has 
the hearts of all in His hand, that had thus disposed the 
heart of this man. I could not forbear felicitating him 
on being appointed to distribute. 1 communicated to 
him my real circumstance, while tears of pleasure gushed 
into his eyes. He would then have made an addition to 
the gratuity; bur this I resolutely refused: I had enough 
for my present purpose, and more than enough would 
have been burdensome. I went on from this place, with 
inexpressible delight, my soul warmly disposed to mag- 
nify the Lord, and to trust Him at all times not being 
afraid. My faith, by these manifestations thus invigorat- 
ed and renewed, 1 rejoiced in the good pleasure of my 
God; my way was made clear before me, and I nothing 
doubted that my journey would be crowned with success. 
This day was indeed a happy day, I shall certainly 
never, so long as memory shall continue its office, recur 
to it without the most pleasurable emotions. 

Upon the evening of this memorable day, I arrived at 
the end of my journey, and I was received by the physi- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 18 i 

eian, whose letter of earnest solicitation had brought me 
thus far, with many demonstrations of joy. I was, how- 
ever greatly surprised, to find a person, who I understood 
was master of a large fortune, plain, if not penurious, 
both in his house, furniture, and apparel; but, if I was 
disappointed by the appearance of the man and his dwell- 
ing, I was abudantly more so, by his conversation, from 
which I learned, that he had been imposed upon by the 
accounts he had received of me; he had been made to be- 
lieve I was for matter and manner, a second Whitefield. 
My heart sunk, as I reflected what I had to expect from a 
gentleman thus circumstanced. I beheld before me a 
self-righteous Calvinist: and I believed, when he discov- 
ered (as I was determined he immediately should) the 
amount of my testimony, he would sincerely repent, that 
he had summoned me to his abode, and that I should, in 
consequence, have much to suffer. The house afforded 
no spare bed, and, of course, I lodged, I cannot say slept) 
with my host. The whole night was devoted to conver- 
sation, and I embraced the first pause to inform him, that 
I once viewed the Deity, and the creature man, precisely 
as they now appeared to him; but that a complete revo- 
lution had been wrought in my mind. Sir, I once be- 
lieved the faithful Creator had called into existence by 
far the greatest number of human beings, with no other 
intention, than to consign them to endless misery, rescu- 
ing only a few respected persons, from a state of sin and 
suffering. You will, my dear sir, probably regret that 
you have invited me hither, when I inform you, that the 
Christ in whom I trust, and the gospel, which I preach, 
is not the Christ of whom you expected to hear, nor the 
gospel you supposed I should preach. The Christ, in 
whom I formerly confided, was & partial Saviour; but tho 
Christ, in whom I now trust, is the Saviour of the world. 
The gospel, you have been accustomed to hear, and 
which you expected I should preach, is a partial gospel, 
conveying the glad tidings of eternal life in Christ Jesus 
only to an elected few. The gospel, I preach, is glad ti- 
dings to every individual of the human race; assuring 
them that, in Christ, the promised seed, all the nations, 
all the families of the earth shall be blessed. I fear, sir, 
that, not being accustomed to the ministry of the recon- 
ciliation, committed to the apostles, to wit, that God was 
in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself, not imput- 
ing unto them their trespasses; that, when all mankind 
like sheep had gone astray, the Lord, the offended God, 
laid upon Jesus the iniquities of us all, that he might put 
16* 



182 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



them away by the sacrifice of himself, that they might 
thus, as a mill-stone, be cast into the depths of the sea, 
and be found no more at all; that Jesus thus performing 
the will of God, the world may ultimately behold him in 
his true character, as the Lamb of God, who taketh away 
the sin of the world* thus becoming the Saviour of all 
men,— not in, but from their sins. I fear, my good sir, 
that when you hear me thus preaching the gospel, which 
God himself preached to Abraham, and which he testified 
by the mouth of all his holy prophets ever since the world 
began, your disappointment will be grievous. I know, 
sir, you have not neen accustomed to hear of Universal 
Love; of boundless compassion; and these sounds may 
make you as angry, as they have made many of our 
brethren in every age. Here I made a full pause, con- 
tinuing for a few moments in painful suspense. I was, 
however soon relieved. 6 No, sir, you have nothing to 
fear from me; for although the things, of which you 
speak, have never entered into my head or heart, yet, 
give me leave to assure you, it will never give me pain to 
know, that God's ways are not as my ways, nor his 
thoughts as my thoughts, My mind is so far from revolt- 
ing at the tidings you bear, that nothing would give me 
more unutterable joy, than to be assured of their truth.' 
Thus was my mind exonerated from a weight of dread 
apprehension. I asked him, what assurance he could 
either wish for, or expect ? { Nothing more than a " Thus 
saith the Lord." 3 I continued, through the residue of 
the night, preaching the gospel, according to the scrip- 
tures; and it pleased Almighty God so to furnish my mind 
with testimonies, drawn from the sacred volume, that I 
went on, from Genesis to Revelations, until the morning 
dawned upon us. But a brighter morning dawned upon 
the long-benighted mind of my wandering hearer; he ex- 
hibited, what he said he experienced, rapture before un- 
known. He was indeed, as one, brought out of darkness 
into marvellous light, and from the power of satan, unto 
God. 1 never before saw so great a change, wrought in 
so short a time. He gave me a sketch of his life, which 
had been employed in seeking to accumulate riches, and 
righteousness. The former he had gained, but the latter 
he had not; and he was constrained to confess, that if 
the wealth, he had taken such unwearied pains to obtain, 
and to keep, were no better in the sight of man, than his 
righteousness was in his own estimation, and in the esti- 
mation of his God, he had been all his life laboring in vain, 
and spending his strength for nought. By commerce, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



1S3 



and the practice of physic, the Doctor had acquired a for- 
tune of forty thousand pounds sterling; yet from the ap- 
pearance of the man, we should have concluded his re- 
sources extremely limited. His offsprings were only one 
son, and one daughter; his wife was no more; his son a 
prodigal; his daughter a married woman, in eligible cir- 
cumstances, and of a most amiable character. The Doc- 
tor was far advanced in life, and although he had been 
uniformly employed in getting and hiding money, yet he 
was so religious aman, as to part with four hundred pounds 
sterling toward building a meeting-house; and he was 
greatly mortified, at not being able to obtain permission 
for me to preach therein, though he went so far, as to as- 
sure those, who had the care of the house, that he would 
put it in complete repair, if he might be indulged with the 
pleasure of hearing who he pleased in the pulpit, when it 
was not otherwise occupied. But the Presbytery had 
given orders, that no person should be admitted into any 
of their meetings, without a letter of license, first had and 
obtained from that body, f So,' said the Doctor, c let God 
send, by whom He will send, the sent of God can obtain 
no admission; but those, whom the Presbytery think prop- 
er to send, must be admitted every where ! Is not this 
rank priestcraftV But although the doors of every house 
of worship, in that neighborhood, were shut against us, 
many private houses were devoted to us, and the Doctor 
was indefatigable in striving to spread abroad the saviour 
of the Redeemer's name. His soul was so highly wrought, 
by the discoveries he had made, that he most ardently 
desired to make all men acquainted with the grace, in 
which they stood. 

The Doctor was a man of uncommon abilities; his mind 
was highly cultivated; I never knew a finer speaker. 
He was well acquainted with the religion of the world, 
and, possessing a happy facility of manifesting his knowl- 
edge, when it pleased God to show him his salvation, — 
when he had power given him to believe with his heart 
the word of God, which giveth life unto all men, — from 
the abundance of his believing heart, his mouth became 
full of the praises of his God: and wherever he went, so 
often as opportunity offered, he delighted to magnify the 
name of the Redeemer: spreading far and wide, to the 
utmost of his abilities, the truth as it is in Jesus, the glad 
tidings of the gospel Every body, who knew the man, 
was astonished; for, strange to tell, he became liberal; 
liberal of that, with which he had heretofore found it so 
difficult to part, he could part with his money; and, 



1&4 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



among numerous instances of his generosity, I myself was 
an example. He saw my vestments were rather worn, 
they could not last always, and he ordered me a complete 
suit of superfine broadcloth, I looked at the Doctor, at 
his garments, much worse than mine. I am really astonish- 
ed, said I. 6 Not more than I am myself, sir. I have for 
a whole year been perfectly aware; that I wanted raiment, 
yet I could not find it in my heart to purchase even those 
articles of which I stood in most need; but, sir I do indeed 
behold my former self with detestatiou. I coutinued with 
the Doctor for several weeks; he accompanied me from 
place to place, enjoying abundantly more than the world 
could give or take away; and his numerous connexions 
were partakers of his felicity. For myself I had rich op- 
portunities of preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and 
my pleasures were proportioned to the satisfaction, which 
I was instrumental in communicating. But it became 
necessary I should return to Philadelphia, and the Doctor 
was exceedingly affected; yet previous to my final depart- 
ure, I had engaged to preach at an Episcopalian church 
at some distance, where it was believed a large con- 
course of people would be assembled. But on Saturday 
evening, the wind being north-west, brought on so se- 
vere a frost, that the ensuing day, Sunday, February 
14th, 1773, was by far the coldest day I had ever experi- 
enced. I was, however determined to keep my appoint- 
ment, and I rode six miles on horseback, accompanied by 
a gentleman, who had conceived for me the strongest af- 
fection, and we derived so much pleasure, from the di- 
vine subjects, which engaged our attention, that we hard- 
ly adverted either to the severity of the day, or the dis- 
tance; and my fellow traveller, in the fulness of his heart, 
declared, did it depend upon him, we would ride on till 
the close of time, and then leap into eternity together. 
The cold, however, was sufficiently piercing to compel 
us to assemble in the school-house, instead of the church, 
where a large chimney, and a blazing hearth, hardly kept 
us from freezing; yet was my own heart, and the hearts 
of many of my hearers, warmed by that fire of divine love, 
enkindled by the word and spirit of our God; which spirit 
graciously vouchsafed to take of the things of Jesus, and 
show them unto us, giving us not only peace, but joy, un- 
speakable joy, in believing. I proposed departing for 
Philadelphia, on the following Monday; but the Doctor, 
and his friends, prevailed upon me to tarry a day or two 
longer, in which time he labored hard to persuade me to 
continue with him. c Only, 5 said he, 6 consent to abide 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



1S5 



here, and I will very cheerfully build for you as handsome 
a church, as any in the country, and it shall be your own. 
I will devote ten, of the forty thousand pounds, which I 
possess, to this purpose. 1 thanked him, most cordially, 
for his flattering offer; but added, that the tender of his 
whole estate would be no temptation to me to accept a 
permanent residence. My mind was, at that time, sol- 
emnly impressed by a conviction, that I was sent out to 
preach the gospel; and that, as the servant of God, I 
must neither loiter by the way> nor seek to evade the spir- 
it of my commission. An imposing sense of duty com^ 
pelled me to say, that, so long as I was able, I would sub- 
mit to the will of my Master. Upon the night previous 
to my departure, we had little sleep. We expatiated with 
pleasing wonder upon the mysterious ways of Heaven, 
and we poured out our souls in prayer to that God, who, 
having brought us together, had caused us to drink into 
one spirit. The morning came, when, after commending 
ourselves to God, and to the word of his grace, I was on 
the point of departing, in the same manner I had left 
Philadelphia, yet, without even the vestige of apprehen- 
sion. But the Doctor, taking me by the hand, essayed to 
articulate; but was necessitated to pause for self-posses- 
sion, when he said: 6 God forever bless you, and be with 
you; and wherever you go, make your way plain before 
you ; and, if we never meet again in this world, (for I am 
an old man, you know) I rejoice in the assurance, that 
we shall meet in the presence of God, our Saviour, and 
spend an eternity together. 5 He then put into my hand 
gold sufficient, abundantly sufficient to bear my expenses 
even to the dwelling of my patron. 6 You may want this 
upon the road, 3 said be, c take this as a memento of friend- 
ship. 5 I am dear sir, amazed at your liberality. 6 I also 
am amazed — it is the Lords doings, and truly, it is mar- 
vellous in my eyes. Thus closed my visit to my worthy 
friend, after I had promised, that, if it should so please 
God, I would cheerfully visit him again. 

On my return, being earnestly solicited, I preached in 
the hall of the Academy at Newark; and I once more 
reposed under the roof of that hospitable man, who was 
made the instrument of administering to my necessities, 
on my way. At Wilmington too, 1 delivered my message; 
and elevated by an excursion, which had been so greatly 
blessed, I returned to Philadelphia in perfect health, and 
high spirits. During the residue of the spring, the whole 
of the succeeding summer, and a part of the autumn, until 
October, 1773, my time was divided between Pennsylva- 



186 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ma, the Jersies, and New-York. My friends were to be 
found among every class of people, from the highest to 
the most humble, and almost every day increased the num- 
ber, both of my friends and enemies. The clergy contin- 
ued a phalanx of opposition. One good man stumbled 
upon a most ingenious device. A Mr. Still, a Baptist 
priest, wrote a most elaborate letter, in which he charged 
me with many crimes, assuming as facts, those reported 
crimes, which my soul abhorred. This letter he read in 
every company in which he mixed; sent copies of it to 
New-England, and various other parts of the country; 
giving those, to whom he made his communications, to 
understand, that he had forwarded this letter to me, al- 
though I never saw it, and was indebted for an account of 
its contents, to some worthy individuals, who were among 
the number of those, to whom it was read. Thus did this 
man industriously essay to prejudice the minds of the 
people, trusting that their hatred of me, and my testimony, 
would if possible, be commensurate with his own; and 
thus, at his righteous tribunal, I was tried and condemned, 
and, as far as he could prevail, executed, without being 
suffered to plead in my own defence, or even furnished 
with a copy of the allegations against me. Had I not 
reason to supplicate: Grant me, O my God! patient resig- 
nation, and the divine light of thy countenance. Yet the 
character, priest, and adversary, did not always prove 
synonymous. A clergyman, upon a memorable evening, 
entered a house of public worship, in which I was pro- 
mulgating the truth as it is in Jesus. He presented him- 
self with a determination to oppose me; but quitting the 
church, and entering my lodgings, he folded me in his 
arms, exclaiming (while his eye glistened with pleasure,) 
' If this be heresy, may I so worship the God of my fathers, 
during the residue of my days. 5 Nor was this a solitary 
instance; Mr. Duchee, minister of the established church 
of Philadelphia, Mr. Tretard, of New-Rochelle, Mr. Gano, 
of New- York, Mr. Tyler, Episcopalian minister of Nor- 
wich, were among the number of those, who, if they were 
not fully with me in sentiment, have uniformly discharged 
toward me the duty of Christian friends. My opportuni- 
ties of observing uncommon characters were multiplied. 
I regret, that the limits, I have prescribed to myself, will 
not permit me to dwell upon the life and virtues of Thomas 
Say, of Philadelphia; a man, who, it may be said, re-vis- 
ited this world, after being privileged with more than a 
bird's-eye view of another. Anthony Benezet might also 
claim many pages. Christopher Marshall; the celebrated 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



187 



Mrs. Wright, and her uncommon family; many shades 
of departed friends flit before me j but 1 must hasten irom 
the now beatified group, and pursue the sometimes rug- 
ged path, over which the journey of life hath conducted 
me. 

Upon the 10th of October, 1773, I embarked on board 
the Humbird, captain Law ton, for Newport, which place 
we reached at early breakfast, and where 1 was received 
in a manner comporting with my most sanguine wishes. 
Belcher, Warner, Otis, Newton, Wright, Wanton, Wa- 
terhouse, Ellery, &,c. &c, these all received me with open 
arms; but having reason to believe, much confusion 
would result from an attempt to open the doors of the 

meeting-house, in which Dr. S ~ officiated, 1 sent the 

Doctor an assurance, that 1 would no more enter his pul- 
pit. The Governor granted the state-house to the solici- 
tations of my friends, and became himself one of my audi- 
ence. I preached also in the meeting-house of Mr. Kelly, 
and at the prison. The congregations were crowded, 
and attentive. Newport contains a synagogue, and the 
many Jews, collected there, pressed to hear. Mr. Lo- 
pez, an opulent gentleman among the Jews, celebrated as 
well for humanity, as for mercantile knowledge, met me 
at the door of the state- house, and, pressing my hand, 
said : ( God Almighty be with you, sir, and bless and pre* 
serve you wherever you go, giving you good success al- 
ways.' He would have added; but his overflowing heart 
evidently denied him utterance. The Jews were gene*- 
rally pleased. They declared, they had never before 
heard so much in favor of Christianity. Poor hearts 
they would see the things, which belong to their peace, 
if the appointed time of the Father were come; in this 
their day are they hidden from their eyes: but the day of 
the Lord cometh, when whatever is hidden shall be re- 
vealed. 

I was solicited to take up my abode at Newport, and 
assured, if I would so do, a place of public worship- 
should be erected" for my accommodation. These good 
people learned, that I had been necessitated to part with 
my horse, for the purpose of defraying the expenses, at- 
tendant upon re-printing specimens of apostolic preach 
ing, selected from the writings of Mr. Relly; and they 
insisted upon purchasing me another. Nor was thk 
all; they helped me on my way, contributing abundantly, 
by private gratuities, to the relief of my necessities. Mr. 
Ward, secretary to the then province of Rhode-Jsland^ 
with many others, were, upon this my second visit, added 



1S8 



Life of rev. john Murray. 



to the number of my friends. A member of Dr. S — s s 

church informed me, it was affirmed, I had absolutely 
said, all men should be saved. I assured him, f had 
never said, all men should be saved; I had said, Jesus 
was and is the Saviour of all men; and that, in the ful- 
ness of time, he would gather together all things into one, 
- — bringing in his ancient people, the Jews, and with them 
the fulness of the Gentiles,—-causing all flesh to come 
and worship before him,— and making of Jew and 
Gentile One new man, so making peace: and that all the 
kingdoms of the world should become the kingdoms of 
God and of His Christ. I publicly invited any individual 
in Newport,- who had aught to say against the testimony 
I delivered, to meet me in an open manner, the bible in 
his hand; and if the arguments he should produce were 
more consistent with the sacred writings, I would upon 
the spot, in the most unreserved manner, acknowledge 
and renounce my errors. 

Quitting Newport, I took passage for East-Greenwich. 
A fellow passenger told me, he had been informed I had 
said: Our sins were laid upon the Devil; and that there 
was nothing for us to do; and he wished to know, if I be- 
lieved either the one or the other? Certainly not, I repli- 
ed; it was not the Devil, but the Redeemer, on whom the 
Lord laid the iniquities of us all. I assured him, we had 
many things in our various characters to perform, to 
which it was our bounden duty to attend; and that those, 
who continued in offences, would be experimentally able 
to say, c Truly, the way of the transgressor is hard; ' for, 
assuredly, they would be chastised with many stripes. 
My appearance at East-Greenwich was welcomed by Mr. 
Varnum, and others. Several gentlemen, whom I had 
not before known, called upon me at Mr. Varnum's; 
among these was Eh*. Hawkins, who questioned me, and 
appeared satisfied with my answers; he introduced me to 
his friends, Mr. Green, &c. I preached, in the court- 
house, to a crowded audience. The superior court was 
then in session; the judges and the lawyers were among 
my hearers. I was laboring under great indisposition, 
hut God was with me. Esquire Casey took me to his 
house, where I was met by judge Potter for the purpose 
of conversation. He said he had never been pleased with 
pulpit exhibitions, because they were so replete with 
contradictions, and he was determined to sift me thorough- 
ly. We passed the night together; he performed what 
he had proposed, with candor, and appeared satisfied with 
the result. At parting, he earnestly wished me success, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY • 



189 



and prayed that I might be preserved from the power of 
the priest, and the flatterer. This gentleman continued 
to evince great affection for me; he seemed to understand 
and feel the power of the gospel; I had not seen his supe- 
rior. At this period, I was desirous of extending my tour 
as far as Boston : but, notwithstanding the repeated mani- 
festations of divine protection, with which I had been 
favored, a reluctance to venturing on untried scenes was 
gradually pervading my spirit, and I was again ready to 
ask, What am I to do in Boston? Yet I added: O! my 
unbelieving heart, who shall deliver me from this body 
of sin and death? Blessed be Godicho is faithful. Pass- 
ing an hour at Mrs. Green's, I was introduced to a lady 
from Boston, a Mrs. Hubbard-, she questioned me upon 
the doctrine of reprobation, particularly that passage, 
which expressly asserts, c Jacob have I loved, and Esau 
have I hated.' My answers were so much to her satis- 
faction, that she gave me a pressing invitation to her 
house in Boston; and as I contemplated a journey thither, 
she prayed me to take a letter to Mr. Hubbard, and to 
make his dwelling my abode, during my continuance in 
the metropolis of Massachusetts. From East-Greenwich 
I proceeded to Pawtuxet, delivering my message in their 
house of worship; and from theuce I repaired to Provi- 
dence, where I was received by those, who had before 
bade me welcome, with continued kindness. Immediate- 
ly on my arrival, a summons to pass the evening with the 
Rev. Mr. Snow was presented me; I delayed not to at- 
tend him, and I was accompanied by Mr. Binney, a young 
gentleman of great promise. Mr. Snow's parlor was 
nearly filled by the members of his church and congrega^ 
tion. A long and solemn pause succeeded the usual cere- 
monies of introduction; Mr. Snow at length broke silence 
by observing : c We are, sir, perfectly aware, that by far 
the greater part of the town are anxious to hear you; and, 
as our house is the most convenient, we presume applica* 
tion will be made for its use. But, since you were last 
here, a few of our members have heard strange reports 
respecting you: (viz.) That you believe all mankind 
will be saved; and that the new birth is not in us, but in 
Christ. I have, therefore, thought proper to call together 
several of my church, that they may have an opportunity 
of speaking to you, and determining whether they think 
proper to open their doors. Do you, sir, believe that all 
mankind will be saved?' I believe, Jesus Christ is the Sa~ 
viour of all men; that, by the grace of God, he tasted death 
for every man; that he is the propitiation for the sins of the 



190 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



whole world; and that God was, in Christ, reconciling the 
world unto Himself, not imputing unto them their tres- 
passess. c Well, and do you believe, that all are saved? 
Not as unbelievers; they, who believe not, are damned. 
c How then are they interested in Jesus? 5 Precisely as 
they were in the first Adam. 6 But all are not interested 
in Jesus, as they were in the first Adam.' How then doth 
it appear, that as, by the offence of one man, judgment 
came upon all men to condemnation, sa by the righteous- 
ness of one, the free gift came upon all men to justification 
of life? 5 6 And do you, sir, believe that, in consequence 
of this, all will be finally happy? 5 Do you, sir, believe 
all who learn of the Father will be happy?' c O yes. 5 
And do you believe all will be taught of God, and come 
to Jesus, and be saved? e No, indeed,' Do ministers in 
general believe this? 6 No^ we know they do not.' Why 
then do they pray for it? Do they not pray, that God 
would hasten the happy time, when he shall bring in his 
ancient people, the Jews, and with them the fulness of 
the Gentiles; that all the kingdoms of the world may be- 
come the kingdoms of God and of His Christ; that they 
may all be taught of God from the least unto the greatest? 
For this, and much more, clergymen repeatedly pray : 
and can we suppose they are dealing hypocritically with 
their God? are they such monsters of impiety, as to solic- 
it, for what, they believe the Almighty had determined, 
before the foundation of the world, he would never grant? 
A profound pause succeeded; after which, I was asked: 
* Do you, sir, believe the New Birth is in us, or in 
Christ ! ' He, who is born of God, sinneth not, But if 
we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth 
is not in us. He, who is born of God, is a new creature; ah 
old things are passed away, and all things are become new; 
a good man, out of the good treasury of his heart, bring eth 
not forth good and evil, but good, only good. I conceive, 
therefore, that to be born again, or, as it maybe rendered 
to be born anew, or born from above, alludes to the birth 
of the human family in the person of Christ Jesus, we 
being members of his body. Hence the sacred record 
decidedly pronounces: Created anew in Christ Jesus. 
'Well, that is scripture, to be sure. 5 Are we Christ 
Jesus? c No, certainly. 5 Then, can being created anew, 
in Christ Jesus, be understood as being created anew, in 
ourselves? A part of the company discovered great bitter- 
ness; others were more calm. I requested them to ob- 
serve, that, if they reported me as a heretic, they must 
remember they smote me through PauPs skirts, for I had 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



191 



delivered no sentiments of my own fabrication; I had 
merely rehearsed in their ears the unadulterated language 
of revelation : I therefore begged I might be honestly re- 
ported. One gentleman declared, that, whether I deemed 
it honest, or not, he should report me as a heretic. I then 
insisted, he should declare, what heresy was. He said, I 
was against the gospel. I requested, he would say what 
gospel was ? He replied, it was whatever was found in 
the new testament. I appealed to the company, whether 
this was eilher fair or true? whether there were not many 
particulars in the new testament, which were not gospel? 
and whether the gospel was not preached to Abraham? 
or whether the gospel was not God's good sayings, or 
glad tidings to all people ? Whether I had said any thing 
contrary to this, or proposed any way of salvation, beside 
Christ Jesus? or whether I had privily strove to bring in 
such a damnable doctrine, as to deny the Lord who 
bought them? They were all dumb. At length Mr. 
Snow said; c Well, my friends^ you know the reason of 
my calling you together, and you can now determine re- 
specting Mr. Murray's again entering our pulpit. I 
would have you freely deliver your sentiments. One 
said, the people wished to hear, and there was no house 
so convenient as theirs; he could see no reason why I 
should not preach. Another objected. His conscience 
would not allow him to consent. A third remarked, the 
people would go to hear me, preach where I would; sup- 
pose I was wrong, I could not contaminate the house 
for his part, he did not see that I had said any thing, 
which had been proved erroneous; that he most devoutly 
blessed God he had been present, for he had received 
more light, than he had ever before enjoyed; and many 
united their acknowledgments with his. I assured them, 
it was my solemn determination to presfch nothing but 
Christ Jesus, and him crucified for every human being. 
Finally, they determined to open their doors for my re- 
ception: and thus, by permission of minister and people, 
I again and again addressed a vast multitude from the 
pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Snow, of Providence, and my 
hearers appeared serious and attentive. 

During my continuance in Providence, I became ac- 
quainted with Doctor Huse of that place, a very uncom- 
mon man, and, as it appeared to me, of a very luminous 
intellect. Bidding me God speed, he added: c Sir, I re- 
joice, that you dare be honest; how long you will con- 
tinue so, I know not. At present you are boldly facing 
danger, and without fear. Continue, I beseech you, to 



192 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY". 

declare unmixed truth, although all men should be against 
you.' On the 26th of October, 1773, I took a seat in the 
stage for Boston. Late upon the evening of that day, we 
reached town. I had a letter from Mrs. Hubbard, and 
another for a gentleman, a major Paddock: but I was un- 
willing to disturb strangers at an hour so improper for a 
first introduction, and the old question recurred: 'What 
are you to do now? ' The passengers, one after another 
were dropped; I remained alone in the coach and the 
coachman civilly questioned: 'Where will you be set 
down, sir? ' Can you recommend to me, a decent tavern? 
While he deliberated, a son of Mrs. Hubbard accosted 
him. c Is Mr. Murray in the coach?' c Yes, sir. 5 He 
approached the door. £ My Mother, sir, has written to 
my father respecting you, and we have been looking out 
for you with great impatience. 5 All was immediately 
settled; and thus was I met, in Boston, by the good pro- 
vidence of God, while my throbbing heart exclaimed; To 
the Lord belongeth mercy; and praise, and thanksgiving 
are his righteous due. 

By Mr. Hubbard I was received with great kindness, 
he was an innocent, honest man, and his family were 
truly friendly. Upon the ensuing morning I delivered my 
letter to Major Paddock, whose reception of me was such 
as a stranger ought to expect, coolly civil; he, however, 
introduced me to Mr. Williams, a respectable, philan- 
thopic gentleman strongly attached to the writings of Ja- 
cob Bhemen. To Mr. Williams I have most gratefully 
to acknowledge a series of important and essential obliga- 
tions. Measures were soon in train for the purpose of 
procuring a place, in which I might be allowed to deliver 
my testimony; but every effort was ineffectual, until the 
following Saturday, October 30th. In this interval, I re- 
ceived from Mr. Thomas Handasyde Peck, a polite invi- 
tation to dine. Mr. Peck was a very respectable man, 
and his lady a most valuable woman;* they were unwea- 
ried in contributing, to the utmost of their abilities, to the 
relief of the sons and daughters of sorrow. Ranking 
among the admirers of Mr. Whitefield, they possessed 

* Many of the descendants of this exemplary couple are among the 
most cpulent dwellers in this town. It is reported, that they are 
marching forward in the luminous pith of their excellent ancestors; 
that they uniformly extend to the children of adversity a munificent 
and extricating hand ; and, although their voices did not gladden the 
eiek chamber of the preacher, yet he rejoiced in their prosperity, and 
in that large portion of benevolence, ascribed to them by the echoing 
tongue of fame. Ed. 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



193 



eminently the characteristic of his adherents, — they were 
abundantly less bigoted than other Religionists. In the 
agreeable family of Mr. Peck, I passed a most delightful 
day; I related to them the manner of my coming to the 
house of my patron, and 1 sketched for them the dealings 
of God with me, since he had called me forth. They lis- 
tened with silent astonishment; and when I had finished, 
they praised God in my behalf. They were evidently 
pained, that I could not obtain a place in which to preach; 
and they added, if no other could be procured, they would 
open their own doors for this purpose. There were in 
Boston, at this period, a few individuals, who were im- 
measurably attached to the writings of Jacob Bhemen. 
Those persons looked down with pity on all those they 
had left behind, who were such infidels, as not to ascribe 
honor and glory to the inspired pages of this writer. I 
could not forbear experiencing great satisfaction from the 
consideration, that Jesus Christ was made unto me wis* 
dom. The adherents of Bhemen enjoyed their philosoph- 
ical divinity very highly, delighting to wrap themselves 
about in a mysterious garment of unintelligible jargon. 
But thus it must ever be. Error will prevail, until the 
appointed time of the Father shall usher the benighted 
mind into the clear shining of the full meridian of Divine 
Revelation. 

At the house of Major Paddock I met a member of Mr, 
Stillman's church, who seemed to conceive there would 
be little difficulty in overthrowing my plan; to whom I ob- 
served, that if any individual would unite with me in 
searching the scriptures, I would, supposing there were 
not found in the book of God more positive assertions of 
final, and universal Redemption, than of final Reproba- 
tion, pledge myself immediately to surrender my present 
soul-satisfying views. c No one,' he replied, 6 could take 
pleasure in the destruction of mankind.' Why, do not 
you, sir? c No, sir.' Why, sir? £ I wonder you should 
ask such a question. 5 Why, sir, why should you not take 
pleasure in that, in which God takes pleasure? c God 
does not take pleasure in destruction, sir?' What, sir, and 
make individuals on purpose to destroy them ? and Almigh- 
ty too-^— ruling in heaven above, and in earth beneath, as 
seemeth in his sight good? Do you dare say, if you had 
power, no fellow creature should be lost; and dare you 
suppose, that He, who hath all power, both in heaven and 
in earth, hath not so much love as you, a finite being? 
Will He say to you, Love your enemies, do good to those, 
who hate you, and pray for those, who despitefully use 



194 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



you, — and will He not do likewise ? shall the disciple bo 
above his Master, and the servant above his Lord? He 
answered with a sigh: ( I cannot argue with you, sir, that 
last observation has weight. 5 Ah, sir! 1 continued, would 
that every individual were more intimately acquainted 
with that most elevating subject, the love of God to man, 
the never-beginning, never-ending love of God to man. 
This, sir, is a species of knowledge, which doth not puff 
up; but it lifts up, as on eagles 5 wings, ever mounting, 
never tiring, but still discovering new wonders, through 
the. wasteless ages of eternity. But man, poor, fallen man, 
who in his present state is enmity against God, is ever 
measuring the love and compassion of Deity, by his own 
scanty rule. Nay, by a rule, which he would blush to 
acknowledge. I have frequently said, that there is not a 
person of character upon this continent, who would bear 
to be delineated, whatever character he sustains, as he 
thinks and speaks of the Most High. What father would 
choose to be supposed deficient in providing, to the extent 
of his power, every requisite aid for the beings he has 
been instrumental in introducing into existence? It is 
confessed by all, that God is Almighty; that he is a sove- 
reign; that he can do, and will do, as he pleases; and that 
no power can resist his will. It is also said, That he will- 
eth not the death, the eternal death, of the sinner; that he 
willeth,that man should be saved; that he hath appointed, 
and therefore sends out his servants to warn mankind, to 
call them to eternal blessedness, to persuade them to come, 
that all things are now ready. All this looks like love in 
God. But we are informed, the people, called, have no 
knowledge of God; that they are enmity against God, and 
that, not from a persuasion that God was, in Christ, rec- 
onciling them to himself, but because they do not know 
this, uiid therefore do not believe it; that no man can 
come unto the Father, but by Jesus; that no man can 
come unto Jesus, except the Father draw him; and that 
all, who learn of the Father, come unto Jesus; and all, 
who come unto him, he will in no wise cast out. Are 
m\ Ititudes cast out forever? Then it is because they 
were not taught of God; for if they had learned of the 
Father, they would have come unto Jesus and he would 
in no wise have cast them out. But did God attempt to 
leach them, a 'id, finding it beyond his power, did he finally 
^ive them up? But is not God, almighty? Yes, but he 
did not choose to stretch forth his Omnipotent arm. Why ? 
Because if he had, they must be saved, and he would leave 
them to the freedom of their own will. Did He not know 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



195 



the consequence would be their eternal damnation? O 
yes; but this is perfectly right; for, when he called, they 
would not near. Did he intend they should hear! We 
have nothing to do with that. Merciful God! lift up the 
light of thy irradiating couutenance upon the benighted 
family of man. 

Upon the evening of October 30th, 1773, I preached for 
the lirst time in Boston, in the hall of the factory. My 
hearers were attentive, and after I had closed, several in- 
dividuals addressed me, and with apparent kindness invi- 
ted me to visit them at their houses. On the succeeding 
evening, (Sunday,) I again preached in the hall; the con- / 
gregation was too large for the place. My subject was 
Zechariah ix. 9. The people were more affectionate than 
the preceding evening; many solicited me to tarry, and 
assured me, that a better place should be provided for my 
accommodation. On Monday evening, November 1st, I 
preached to a select number at Mr. Peck's, who seemed 
to have the power of God among them. In consequence 
of a pressing solicitation . from this gentleman, I took up 
my lodging in his hospitable mansion; thus goodness and 
mercy continually followed me. From my beloved friend 
Binney, I received repeated and affectionate letters, and I 
trusted this young gentleman would become an able advo- 
cate for the Redeemer. 

A Mr. Little, of Newburyport, united his earnest solicit 
tations with a number of gentlemen, who importunately 
urged me to visit that place. I dared not refuse; and, 
parting with my affectionate friends in Boston, I accompa- 
nied Mr Little and others in the stage for Newburyport. 
On our arrival, inquiries were made at the coach-side, if 
1 was there; and on being answered in the affirmative, a 
crowd collected. Mr. Parsons, the Presbyterian minister, 
a venerable looking gentleman, immediately visited me, 
and asked me many questions. Where I came from, 
what clergymen I was acquainted with? and what creden- 
tials I could produce ? During his inquiries he discovered, 
as it appeared to me, some uneasiness at the idea of my 
preaching in his pulpit: I therefore hastened to inform 
him, that I was no priest, nor approved of by gentlemen 
of that order; that I professed myself somewhat acquaint- 
ed with the salvation wrought out by Jesus Christ, and 
that wherever his providence called me, I was willing to 
speak well of the name of the Redeemer; but, I added, 
that I had great reluctance in speaking in any place in 
opposition to the wishes of the officiating minister. Mr. 
Parsons replied: The house was not his, it was the prop- 



196 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

erty of the people, and when it was not occupied, they 
had an indubitable right to invite who they pleased. 
Speaking of my call to preach, whether ordinary, or ex- 
traordinary, I observed I had both when he petulently 
asked : c Pray, can you speak with tongues ? ' It is possi- 
ble I may, sir, with tongues that you may not understand. 
However, your question is as much against you as against 
me. Jesus says, among the many signs, that shall follow 
those who believe, they shall heal the sick by laying 
hands upon them, and if they take up any deadly thing, 
it shall not hurt them. From these evidences, sir, per- 
haps it would be as hard for you to prove yourself even a 
believer, as for me to prove myself a preacher, sent of God. 

While we were yet conversing, the bell was rung and a 
large congregation assembled, among which Mr. Parsons 
himself attended; and I selected for my subject, Isaiah lv. 
10, 11. Agreeably to his earnest request, Mr. Little was 
my host; and upon the ensuing morning, (Saturday,) in 
consequence of a very polite invitation, I breakfasted with 
Mr. Parsons, and I was received by him, and his, very cor- 
dially; his countenance brightened upon me, and he re- 
quested me to preach again in his church on that day: 
Nor was this all; he walked with me to the pulpit, and sat 
with me there, while I preached preparatory to the com- 
munion, upon John xv. 12. On the ensuing day, (Sun- 
day), by the request of Mr. Marsh, who was indisposed, 
I preached, both morning and evening, at his church. 
Several friends visited me at Mr. Little's, and we closed 
the day with prayer. I was rather surprised to learn, 
that I lodged, at Mr. Little's, upon the very same bed, in 
which Mr. Whitefield had reposed; and that I had preach- 
ed in the pulpit, before which he was entombed. I con- 
tinued in Newburyport, passing my time most pleasantly, 
a second Sunday; I preached, morning and evening, in 
the pulpit of Mr. Marsh; I gave frequent lectures there, 
and in the meeting-house of Mr. Parsons, who always sat 
in the pulpit with me, and frequently entertained me most 
hospitably at his house. His lady appeared to merit a 
rank among the most accomplished of women; she was 
highly social, sentimental, and pleasant. The circle of 
my friends in Newburyport was very respectable. Upon 
a lecture evening, after I had closed, an old, grey-headed 
man, a member of Mr. Parson's church, quitting his seat, 
addressed the congregation, and in a loud voice said: £ My 
friends, this is a servant of the living God, who is come 
from a far country, to proclaim the glad tidings of salva- 
tion. We have too long been in darkness; yea, our 



trlFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



197 



tongues have cleaved to the roofs of our mouths, and this 
man is sent to animate and renew our faith.' Many bless- 
ed God, they had seen and heard me; and all this 1 impu- 
ted to a want of knowledge^ relative to the extent of the 
glad tidings I promulgated. The Grace, Union, and 
Membership., upon which I expatiated, were admitted by 
every Calvinist, but admitted only for the tied; and when 
1 repeated those glorious texts of scripture, which indispu- 
tably proclaim the redemption of the lost world, — as I did 
not expressly say, My brethren, I receive these texts in 
the unlimited sense in which they are given, — they were 
not apprized, that I did not read them with the same con- 
tracted views, to which they had been accustomed. When 
they became assured of the magnitude and unbounded re- 
sult, which I ascribed to the birth, life, and death of the 
Redeemer, their doors were fast closed against me. For 
myself, I was in unison with Mr. Relly, w ho supposed the 
gradual dawn of light would eventually prove more bene- 
ficial to mankind, than the sudden burst of meridian day. 
Thus 1 was contented with proclaiming the truth as it is 
in Jesus, in scripture language only,— leaving to my hear- 
ers deductions, comments, and applications. 

While I continued at Newburyport, numerous solicita- 
tions poured upon me, from various quarters; but, in 
haste to return to Philadelphia, I could only comply with 
the urgent importunities of several gentlemen from Ports- 
mouth, to which place I journied on the 10th of November, 
1773. I was received at Portsmouth with most flattering 
marks of kindness, The pulpit of the separate minister^ 
Mr. Drown, then recently deceased, was thrown open to 
me; the congregations were large; my adherents were 
truly respectable, and I was earnestly urged to take up 
my residence among them. The meeting-house of Mr. 
Drown being too small, I was invited into the pulpit of 
Dr. L , in which I preached, two clergymen occu- 
pying seats therein. In Portsmouth I received many 
marks of friendship; my necessities were sought out, and 
removed; and the name of Clarkson, Morrison, Hart, and 
Drown, son of the deceased minister, were, on that first 
visit, among my most partial friends. I returned to New- 
buryport, accompanied by Mr. Morrison and Mr Drown, 
and again delivered my testimony in the pulpits of the 
Rev. Mr. Parsons and Mr. Marsh. Mr. Parsons request- 
ed I would write to him from Philadelphia; and on Wed- 
nesday, November 17th, I returned to Boston, where I 
learned, that a spirit of inquiry was in operation among 
my friends; that their bibles were in their hands; and that 



198 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



they were diligently employed in searching the scriptures, 
to find whether these things were indeed so. Upon the 
evening of the 18th, I preached in the mansion of my ven- 
erable friend, Mr. Peck; and I was distinguished by him 
and his lady, with even parental kindness.: Mrs. Peck en- 
treating me to inform my mother, that I had found, in the 
new world, a second maternal friend. It was upon this 
occasion, that I audibly exclaimed: O God! thou hast still 
continued my God, and my guide; let me not forget to 
render praises unto Thee. 

At the period of which I am speaking, there in Boston 
were a number of Deists, who attended my labors. Their 
leader gave me frequent invitations to visit him; he sum- 
moned his friends, with whom he united in expressing his 
abhorrence of the character of the Apostle Paul. To this 
gentleman I dwelt upon the respectable proofs, by which 
the authenticity of scripture was supported, and I took 
leave to observe, that he must have received the character 
of Paul from his enemies; that Paul was indubitably a 
learned man, brought up at the feet of Gamaliel; that he 
was celebrated as an orator; and that his morals were un- 
impeached. It was true, he was said to have advocated a 
most comfortless doctrine, — to have affirmed, that a few 
were elected to everlasting life; while, by the same irreversi- 
ble decree, countless millions were consigned to remedi- 
less and never-ending misery. But, I added, sirs, believe 
it not; for, verily, the doctrine, that God was in Christ 
reconciling the world unto himself, was uniformly pro- 
claimed by our great Apostle. The doctrine of election is, 
questionless, to be found in the pages of this evangelical 
writer; but reprobation is not a necessary consequence of 
election^ nor does it appear in the writings of the Apostle 
to the Gentiles. A governor is elected by a common- 
wealth, a council, senators, representatives are elected; 
but are the people therefore consigned to perdition ? Thus 
I went on, and my little audience with lifted hands ex- 
claimed: c This plan is worthy of a God; and we felici- 
tate you, dear sir, as the Ambassador of Deity. 5 The hall 
of the Factory, and the dwelling of my friend being too 
small for the increasing congregation, Mr. Peck proposed 
I should publish a lecture in the meeting-hous^ of Mr. 

C , of which he was the principal support. I at first 

declined this proposal; but his repeated, and earnest so- 
licitations, induced me to preach in Mr. C 5 s pulpit. 

In the hall of the Factory also, I again delivered my mes- 
sage; and on Friday, November 26th, I preached at Fa- 
neuil Hall: my subject, John viii, 36: If the Son, there- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



199 



fore, shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. The 
principal gentlemen of the town were among my audience, 
who heard me with great seriousness. After lecture, ma- 
ny took me by the hand, and, urging me to return to them 
speedily, prayed in the warmest manner, for my success, 
as a gospel promulgator. This was the last night of my 
abode in Boston, on my first visit. I passed it at Mr. 
Peck's, accompanied by some friends, and we devoted it 
to scriptural investigations. My continuance in Boston 
was strongly urged; but I was under the necessity of de- 
parting, and devotional prayers for my safety, success, 
and speedy return, were reiterated — such are my Cre- 
dentials^ I left Boston on Saturday, November 27; 
reaching Providence upon the evening of that day, where, 
again and again, I delivered my testimony in the pulpit of 
the Rev. Mr. Snow. Departing thence, on the Tuesday 
following, accompanied by my dear young friend, Mr. 
Binney, for East-Greenwich, I met some very dear frionds, 
and, as iron sharpeneth iron, so was my countenance 
brightened, and my spirit soothed and cheered 

From this period, November 30th, until the close of 
January, 1774, when I reached my lodging-place, at the 
house of my patron, I moved slowly on, preaching glad ti- 
dings in various places, friends and enemies still multiply- 
ing. At New-London my opportunities of preaching 
were repeated and the number of my treasures propor- 
tionably augmented; Hertell, Whey, Trueman, these were 
of the true circumcision, who worshipped God in the spir- 
it, rejoicing in Christ Jesus, and having no confidence in 
the flesh; and my orisons were daily offered up to the 
God of all consolation, that the number of such genuine 
believers might be increased. I delight to dwell upon the 
days I have passed in New-London. Deshon, Wheat, 
Saltonstall, Packwood, Law, Huntington, Champlin, Hub- 
bard, &,c. &.C., very pleasant have ye been unto me. May 
the blessing of God descend upon your children's children, 
to the latest generation. 

One capital difficulty, which has encompassed me in 
my progress through this younger world, has been the ex- 
treme reluctance of inquirers to receive their answers in 
scripture language. Standing alone, I have sought to 
wrap myself, or rather to intrench myself in the sacred 
testi nony of my God; and for this I have been accused of 
preva icati jn, equivocation, and what not? merely be- 
cause I have not generally chosen to garb my sentiments 
in my own words. For example: The interrogator com- 
mences with a great many compliments, and then follows: 



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LIFE 6F REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



f Do you believe all men will finally be saved? 5 1 believe, 
it is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, 
who will have all men to be saved) and to come unto the 
knowledge of the truth, 6 But do you yourself believe, 
that all mankind will finally be saved ? J God hath included 
all in unbelief that he may have mercy upon all. But will 
all be finally saved? 5 God hath spoken of the restitution 
of all i, lings , by the mouth of all his holy prophets , since the 
world began. c But still you do not answer my question. 5 
Why, sir, for any thing I know, the authors, I have cited, 
mean, by their words, precisely the same as I do. I adopt 
their language, because I conceive it expresses my own 
ideas better than any set of phrases I could press into my 
service. This mode, however, has rarely given satisfac- 
tion. Persons dare not, in an unqualified manner, deny 
the validity of scripture testimony; they can only assert, 
it does not mean as it speaks, and they earnestly repeat the 
question : c Do you believe, 5 &,c. &c. While my respon- 
ses are drawn from the sacred streams, flowing in the book 
of God, from Genesis to Revelations, still they importu- 
nately, sometimes clamorously demand: 'But do you take 
those scriptures, as they are spoken ? To which I can 
only reply : I ha^e no reason to believe that, by saying 
one thing, and meaning another, men, so upright, have 
formed a plan to deceive me. An attempt has then been 
made to prove the texts in question did not, could not, 
mean as they spake. To which I have answered: Mul- 
titudes are on your side; many have labored to prove God 
a liar; but I have never yet heard any argument, sufficient- 
ly potent, to convince me that He is so. 

On the ninth of April, in this year, I received from the 
church and congregation in Portsmouth, New-Hampshire^ 
worshipping in the separate meeting-house, a solemn, and 
affectionate call, to take upon me the pastoral charge of 
that people; but I was not then convinced I ought to ac- 
cept an establishment in any place. I passed the spring, 
and the early part of the summer of 1774, in Pennsylva- 
nia, the Jersies, and New-York with persons, who had 
drank into the same spirit with myself; with my revered 
friend, and father, with the Mounts and Pangburns of 
these happy days. Blessed be God, I have indeed enjoy 
ed richly the consolations of friendship. In Philadelphia 
I was present at the heart-rending trial of some malefac- 
tors, which resulted in their receiving sentence of death: 
and I could not forbear exclaiming: Oh, Adam, what 
hast thou done ? My bosom swells to rapture, upon the 
reflection, that I had frequent opportunities of visiting 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 201 

those criminals, and of preaching to them peace, through 
the fountain opened in the side of the second Adam. The 
poor creatures seemed much affected. The proclamation 
of the tender mercies of the Redeemer was more effectual, 
than all the terrors of Mount Sinai. Departing from 
New York, about the 20th of July, I passed, by short 
stages, through Connecticut and Rhode-Island, visiting 
my friends in various directions, and deriving inexpressi- 
ble satisfaction from beholding their order, their zeal, and 
the magnitude of their faith. On the 16th of August, the 
governor of Rhode-Island sent me a passage of scripture, 
soliciting me to take it for my subject: It may be found, 
Mark xiv, 10. The governor attended, and after I had 
closed, took my hand with much cordiality, and expressed 
himself well satisfied, and truly grateful. 

September 14th, 1774, I again reached Boston. My 
friends had long been expecting me, and I was received 
and with demonstrations of heart-felt joy. Through the 
greatest part of this autumn, I continued preaching in the 
hall of the factory; in the mansion of my venerable friend, 
and at Faneuil-Hall Once I attempted to preach in Ma- 
sons'-Hall; but the throng, and consequent confusion 
were so great, that I was necessitated to desist, even after 
I had worded my text: and finally, the congregation still 
augmenting, I yielded to the pressing solicitations of the 

proprietors of Mr. C 5 s meeting-house, and repeatedly 

delivered my testimony there. On the 31st of October, a 
gentleman, by the name of Sargent, called upon me from 
Gloucester, urging me to accompany him to his place of 
residence. My engagements would not allow my imme- 
diate attendance, but I gave my word for an early compli- 
ance with his wishes. November 2d, Wednesday even- 
ing, I named as the subject of my public lecture, Luke 13th, 
from the 24th to the 30th. After I had closed, a clergy- 
man, of a respectable appearance, whom I had never be- 
fore seen, ascended the stairs of the pulpit, and addressed 
the people to the following effect : 4 My friends, you have 
heard a great deal said, (for what purpose I know not,) 
which is calculated to lead you astray from the true mean- 
ing of the text. The passage refers to the general judg- 
ment, and to nothing else; and all, that has been said, 
can only originate wrong ideas of the scriptures; for how 
can it be, that the Jews should be intended by those, who 
were shut out? When did the Jews see Abraham, and 
Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of God? or how is it pos- 
sible, that, if they should thus behold them, they could 
ever be happy ? It is not possible, that any, who die in a 



202 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



state of unbelief, should ever be happy to all eternity; and 
therefore, my brethren, I would exhort you to take care 
you are not led astray by the words of man's wisdom, and 
the cunning craftiness of men, whereby they lay in wait 
to deceive. O ! it is very dangerous to give heed to such 
things. 5 Thus the gentleman proceeded, earnestly warn- 
ing the people, and then paused. Again I arose, saying: 
Now this is well: 1 like this. How infinitely preferable to 
secret calumny; no bush-fighting here. And, so much 
am I gratified with this ingenuous manner of dealing with 
me, that it is with extreme reluctance I find it necessary 
to dissent from him in opinion. Yet I must beg leave to 
observe: In the tirst place, the gentleman must assuredly 
be wrong, in supposing the passage in question refers to 
the general and final judgment. Do but attend to the 
concluding verse: There are last, which shall be first, and 
first, which shall be last. Surely, the text would not be 
thus worded, if the last judgment were designed. The 
parable of the ten virgins illustrates this passage. Then 
turning to the 11th of Romans, I pointed out some par- 
ticulars, which are generally passed unnoticed; and when 
I read, 'for God hath included them all in UNBELIEF, 
that he might have mercy upon all? my opponent, rising, 
looked over my shoulder evidently to ascertain, if I had 
given the genuine reading of the text; upon which a law- 
yer, in the assembly, exclaimed : ' I advise you, sir, to 
retire, and read your bible.' I begged we might not be in- 
terrupted; and I affirmed, that my antagonist was entitled 
to my cordial thanks, and that I devoutly wished his ex- 
ample might be generally influential. I then proceeded 
to show, that it was possible an individual might pass 
out of time, ignorant of God an yet be taught of God in 
that great day, when the books should be opened. I read 
the last part of the 22d Psalm, making a few remarks there- 
on; and, after exhorting the audience to follow the exam- 
ple of the Bereans, paused for a reply. The gentleman 
affirmed, I had given an erroneous view of the parable of 
the ten virgins; that it pointed out the visible church, and 
that the foolish virgins were the hypocrites : and he admon- 
ished the people to beware of false teachers, &c. &c. To 
which I replied, by presuming the gentleman did not rec- 
ollect, that the foolish virgins seemed to be equally a part of 
the kingdom of heaven, with the wise virgins, otherwise he 
would not so liberally consigned them to the devil. He 
would have us believe, the kingdom of heaven is the visible 
church; such are the sentiments of His Holiness at Rome; 
but having abjured one Pope, I trusted we should not 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



203 



again be brought into subjection to principles, the propri- 
ety of which our hearts refused to acknowledge. 

November 3d, I repaired to Gloucester, and was re- 
ceived by a few very warm-hearted Christians. The 
mansion-house — the heart, of the then head of the Sargent 
family, with his highly accomplished, and most exemplary 
lady, were open to receive me. I had travelled from Ma- 
ryland to New-Hampshire, without meeting a single in- 
dividual, who appeared to have the smallest idea of what 
I esteemed the truth, as it is in Jesus; but to my great 
astonishment, there were a few persons, dwellers in that 
remote place, upon whom the light of the gospel had more 
than dawned. The writings of Mr. Relly were not only 
in their hands, but in their hearts. Four years previous to 
this period, an Englishman, a Mr. Gregory, had brought 
with him those obnoxious pages, and loaned them to this 
small circle of Gloucesterians, by whom they had been 
seized with avidity; the Father of their spirits rendered 
them luminous to their understandings; and it was in 
consequence of their admiration of Mr. Relly, that, ob- 
serving in the papers of the day, an individual malignantly 
arrainged, as a preacher of Relly's Gospel, they delayed 
not to despatch earnest solicitations for my presence among 
them. In Gloucester, therefore, I passed my time most 
agreeably, until November 12th. The clergyman of the 
principal meeting-house, being' confined by illness, I was 
visited by the deacons, and elders of his church, and by 
them conducted to his house, after which I obtained per- 
mission to preach in his pulpit, which I several times did; 
my subjects, 1 Cor. xi. 26: The good Samaritan: Isaiah 
xxviii, 16, &c. Every day, and every evening was appro- 
priated to the expounding of the scriptures, in the spa- 
cious and well filled parlor of my new, and highly re- 
spectable friend; and I had reason to believe, that God 
most graciously crowned my labors in this place, by giving 
to some brighter views, and inducing others to search the 
scriptures for themselves. Every morning commenced, 
and every day closed, with prayer; and, with glad hearts, 
we delighted to hymn the praises of a redeeming God. 
Taking a most affectionate leave of those very dear friends, 
on Saturday morning, accompanied by Mr Sargent, I re- 
turned to Boston. Upon the evenings of Sunday, and 

Wednesday, I again occupied the pulpit of Mr C , 

and upon the evening of Wednesday the audience were 
incommoded by a profusion of water thrown over them, 
and an egg was aimed at me in the pulpit, which however 
happened to miss me. On Thursday a piece of slander 



204 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



was published in the paper of the day, over the signature 

of Mr C . He had before declared, he would print 

no more in the newspaper, so had I; but although he had 
forfeited his word, I did not think proper to follow his ex- 
ample, and I therefore addressed the following letter, to 
his private ear. 

Sir: 

Some time since, being under the disagreeable neces- 
sity of replying to a dull repetition of your abusive 
slanders, and being persuaded, right or wrong, you would 
have the last word, I assured the public I would write no 
more in newspapers ; so did you but your brilliant exam- 
ple shall never influence me to undertake the vindication 
of my veracity, by convincing the world I can lie. But 
as, in the close of your last performance, you informed 
me and the public, that, if I thought myself wronged, 
what had been asserted should be proved to my face, 
before as large an auditory as I pleased I now, sir, take 
leave to say, I do think myself most cruelly wronged, and 
I should rejoice in an opportunity of vindicating myself 
at the bar of the impartial public; yes, I should rejoice to 
see a very large audience collected: but, as I suppose we 
shall not be able to procure any place, but the meeting- 
house in School-street, 1 shall expect, if you be an honest 
man, to meet you there. You commend a certain gentle- 
man, who recently spoke to me in that house — so do L 
He did not, like Solomon's fool, cast about firebrands, 
arrows, and death, and say am I not in sport? he spake 
above-board, fair, and openly. I should be glad you 
would come and do likewise — only I request you will let me 
know in writing, by the bearer, when you will do this 
piece of common justice, to the cruelly, and most unwar- 
rantably treated, 

JOHN MURRAY. 

This letter enraged him, and he sent it back, declaring 
he would have nothing to do with me. But on the follow- 
ing Sunday evening, when I repaired, as usual, to the 

meeting-house to preach Mr C was upon the 

stairs of the pulpit, with a number of his violent adherents, 
for the purpose of barring me out. Making no resistance, 
I requested the gentleman might be heard with patient 

attention; and silence being obtained, Mr C entered 

the pulpit, and declaimed for a long time, with great bit- 
terness; accusing me of preaching damnable doctrines, 
though he had never heard me preach ; but so he had 
18* 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



205 



been informed, asserting that I was one of Relly ; s follow 
ers, and Relly believed all mankind would be saved; and 
Relly was a blasphemer and denied the atonement; and I 
was a Deist, and it was dangerous to allow me to speak; 
for I said once, in his hearing, that God loved the devil's 
children : and theu, raising his voice he vociferated, c It 
is a lie, a lie, a lie, it is a damnable lie. 5 Thus he went 
on alternately crying out against me, and against Mr. 
Relly, damning my preaching, and his writings, and ex- 
horting the people to avoid me, &c. &c. When he had 
concluded, he quitted the pulpit, and was passing out of 
the house as speedily as possible. 1 requested him to stop ; 
but, observing he was rapidly departing, I urged the 
people to give me an opportunity of having justice done 
me, by detaining my accusing adversary that I might de- 
fend myself in his presence; and Mr. C was accord- 
ingly led into a pew. I informed the andience that I did 
indeed labor under great difficulty. The person, to whom 
I was about to reply was an old gentleman and a clergy- 
man, both of which characters were indubitably entitled 
to respect. Yet truth was, in my opinion, abundantly 
superior to every other consideration; it was beyond all 

Frice; a gem, with which its possessor should never part, 
should therefore take leave to say, Mr. C was 

very right, and very w rong. Right in condemning damna- 
ble doctrines w 7 rong in charging me with preaching those, 

doctrines. Mr. C— , I said reminded me of Nero 

who to be revenged upon the Christians, caught the city 
of Rome on fire, ami charged the Christians with the 

atrocious deed. Mr. C-^ had dressed me in bear's 

skins, and then set the dogs at me. He affirms, that I 
preach damnable doctrines! Suffer me to ask, What are 
damnable doctrines? Peter says, There shall arise false 
teachers among you, as there were false prophets among 
the people, who shall privily bring in damnable doctrines, 
even denying the Lord, who bought them. I appeal to 
this audience. Did 1 ever deny the Lord who bought 
you? On the contrary, have I not borne constant testi- 
mony to this purchase? Did you ever hear me say, It 
made no difference, whether a man Jived a good or a bad 
life; was a believer or an unbeliever? Surely it is highly 
inconsistent to rank me with the Deist, who utterly dis- 
owns the Redeemer, when I am arraigned at this bai for 
believing there is no God out of Christ, and that He, who 
is God, our Saviour, is all, and in all. Mr. Relly is tiiree 

thousand miles from this metropolis, Mr. C has 

neither seen nor heard him. Blasphemy, of which Mr. 
18 



206 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



C accuses him, is no where to be found, in his wri- 
tings. These writings, give me leave to say, will live, 
and be held in admiration, when ten thousand such 

characters as Mr C 5 s and mine, will be consigned 

to oblivion. Thus I went on. Mr. C again ad- 
vanced to the pulpit; reiterated what he had before 
asserted, without regarding a syllable which 1 had utter- 
ed, until at length he interrogated: 'Does God love 
all the people in the world as well as Peter and Paul? 
Suffer me, sir, first to ask you one question, which, if you 
will answer, then I will reply to yours. Did God love Pe- 
ter, and Paul, as well before they believed as afterwards? 
c God loved Peter, and Paul, from the foundation of the 
world. 5 Again, and again, I repeated my question, but 
could not obtain a direct answer. The people from the 
galleries called out, c Why do you not say yes, or no? 5 — 
but he refused thus to commit himself, and of course I 
dropped the inquiry. Again he returned to the charge. 
c Does God love all the people in the world, as well as 
Peter, and Paul? 5 Yes, sir, I believe He does, as well 
as He loved those Apostles before they believed. c Do 
you believe God loves all the people in the world? 5 Yes, 
sir, I do. Then, again he proceeded most violently, and, 
that the heresy might be confirmed, he once more ques- 
tioned: 'Do you believe, that God loves the deviPs chil- 
dren, as well as his own beloved ones? 5 No, indeed; I 
do not think God loves any of the deviPs children, 
6 There, there, now he is hiding again. 5 Suffer me, sir, 
to ask, What is it constitutes the character of the wicked 
man? £ That is nothing to the purpose. 5 

Again I ask, what is it constitutes the character of the 
wicked man? Here several individuals tremulously ask- 
ed: i Why do you not answer the question? we are all 
concerned in it, we are seeking information. 5 c Suppose 
I cannot: let some one else answer, and, if I like it, I will 
agree to it. 5 No answer was given, and Mr. C re- 
sumed his declamation, affirming, I had said, God loved 
the deviPs children. I denied the charge, and was again 
accused of hiding, when I besought the attention of the 
people, while I explained myself! What are we to un- 
derstand by a father, and a child, but begetter and begot- 
ten? Can you, Mr. C , or can any one present, 

presume to say, that the bodies, or the souls of mankind, 
were begotten by the devil? Is not God the father of the 
spirits of all flesh? Is not God the Maker of our frames? 
and doth not the Apostle say, we are all His offspring? 
If it be confessed, we all died in Adam, we were of course 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



207 



in Adam; and if we were in Adam, we were what Adam 
was. But the Evangelist Luke affirms, that Adam was 
the Son of God. We will next inquire, Who are the 
children of the devil, and who are the children of God? 
I humbly conceive, Christ Jesus himself has put the mat- 
ter beyond dispute, in the ever memorable parable of the 
Tares of the field, and our obligation to the Redeemer, 
for explaining it so clearly to his disciples, is indeed im- 
measurable. 1 then repeated the parable, and the expla- 
nation : and proved from thence, that the abominations of 
the earth, were the children of the devil, becausepro 
duced by him; that the iniquities of the people were 
the tares, sowed by the adversary; that our nature was* 
the good seed, which Jesus sowed. A holy God could 
not love sin and, of course, could love no child of the 
devil: but men, being his offspring, He once loved them 
as his own, and having loved His own, He loved them 
unto the end; that He had proved this to all men, in 
the Gift of his Son; God so loved the world, that He 

gave them his Son. Mr. C interrupted: c Nine 

tenths of all you have said is nothing at all to the purpose : 
and again, in terms the most violent, he renewed his ac- 
cusation, that I was all the time hiding. A voice from 
the gallery exclaimed: 6 If he be hiding, why do you not 
hunt him out of the bush? 5 Mr. C at length taunt- 
ingly said: c Come, come, leave off hiding, and tell the 
people, in plain English, that God loves them all.' To 
which I answered: I will, sir, in as plain English, as I 
can command; — and then, addressing the congregation, I 
thus delivered the genuine sentiments of my soul: I am 
commissioned to say, to every individual before me, that 
God loves you, and that you are not to accept this dec- 
laration upon my bare word; you have the word of a God, 
which cannot lie; who proclaims Himself loving unto every 
man; who has given you proof positive of His love. His 
love has been greatly manifested in your birth; in rear- 
ing you from infancy; in guarding you through the devi- 
ous paths of childhood, and youth; and preserving you 
from ten thousand dangers, to which you have been ex- 
posed. His gracious providence, in so plentifully provi- 
ding for you, is a proof of His love. Your civil, and re- 
ligious liberties are blessed proofs of the love of your God. 
These particulars announce the love of Deity, to every indi- 
vidual, as a Creator, and Preserver. Yet these manifesta- 
tions may be considered as merely temporal: But, blessed 
be the holy name of Jehovah ! I am authorised to add, 
and in plain English too, that God loves the soul, which 



208 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



emanates from Himself, and that He has proved this love 
by the gift of His son. God so loved the world that He 
gave them His son ; To us a child is born, to us a Son i» 
given. God has evinced His love, by giving us, in this 
son, Reconciliation, Regeneration, a new Head, a new 
Heart, a right Spirit. Here your Creator so loved you, 
as to give you Wisdom, Righteousness, Sanctification, and 
Redemption. In Christ Jesus, God has so loved you, as 
to bless you with all spiritual blessings; Every individu- 
al should believe this, since it is nothing more than an ac- 
complishment of the promise, of the oath of Jehovah, 
which he swear unto Abraham, saying And in thy Seed 
shall all the nations, all the families of the earth, be blessed* 
Such are the glad tidings, which the God, who loved you 
before the foundation of the world, hath commanded us to 
proclaim to every one of you; such are the glad tidings, 
which you ought to believe. If your heart tell you, It is 
not so, believe it not, it is an unbelieving heart; he, that 
trusteth such a heart, is a fool. If the devil tell you, It is 
not so, believe him not, he was a liar from the beginning* 
If your ministers tell you, You ought not to believe this 
good report, trust them not; they take part with the devil 
and your unbelieving hearts. The devil would persuade 
you, not to believe these glorious truths, because, if you 
were delivered from his usurpation, you would hencefor- 
ward serve your Creator without fear. The arch fiend 
is solicitous to retain you in bondage; his utmost efforts 
are in requisition to prevent you from believing, that 
God has so loved you, as to purchase you with the price 
of blood, of the precious blood of the Lamb of God; he 
would prevent you from believing, that you are bought 
with such a price, lest, thus believing, you should render 
yourselves living sacrifices, holy, and acceptable to God 
But, let God he true, and every man a liar. Ye are not 
your own, ye are bought with a price, and the love of 
Christ constraineth us,l3ecause we thus judge, if One died 
for all, then were all dead; and that He died for all, that 
they, who live, should not henceforth live unto themselves, 
but unto Him, who died for them, and rose again. 

All the time I was speaking, Mr. C was kicking 

my legs, or pulling the skirts of my garment, ever and 
anon vociferating: c Have done, have done; you have 
said enough; quite enough,* &c. &c. Sometimes he stood 
up close to my side, shouldering me as hard as he was 
able. The congregation noticed his behavior, and it did 
not give them pleasure. For myself, I had much cause 
for gratitude to my divine Master; 1st, that he was pleased 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



209 



to give me words; and 2dly, that he did not suffer me to 
.ose my self-command. No, not for an instant. Blessed 
be the name of the Lord. 

My next evening lecture was uninterrupted; but, on the 
succeeding Sunday evening, the throng was so prodigious, 
that it was with much difficulty I reached the pulpit; and 
when entered, I was nearly suffocated by the strong efflu- 
via, arising from the asafoetida with which the tools of the 
adversary had wet the pulpit and the pulpit cloth, plentiful- 
ly sprinkling the whole house with the same noxious drug. 
For some moments I was so much overpowered, as to induce 
an apprehension, that it would be impossible I should pro- 
ceed; but the God of my life was sufficiently abundant for 
me. The demons of confusion were, however, not quite 
satisfied; many stones were violently thrown into the win- 
dows; yet no one received any other injury, than the alarm, 
which was created. At length, a large rugged stone, weigh- 
ing about a pound and a half, was forcibly thrown in at the 
window behind my back; it missed me. Had it sped, as 
it was aimed, it must have killed me. Lifting it up, and 
waving it in the view of the people, I observed: This 
argument is solid, and weighty, but it is neither rational 
nor convincing. Exclamations from various parts of the 
house, were echoed, and re-echoed: ' Pray, sir, leave the 
pulpit, your life is at hazard. 5 Be it so, I returned, the 
debt of nature must be paid, and I am as ready, and as will- 
in?, to discharge it now, as I shall be fifty years hence. 
Yet, for your consolation, suffer me to say, I am immortal, 
while He who called me into existence has any business 
for me to perform; and when he has executed those pur- 
poses, for which he designed me, He will graciously sign 
my passport to realms of blessedness. With your good 
leave, then I pursue my subject, and while I have a- — 
Thus saith the Lord — for every point of doctrine which 
I advance, not all the stones in Boston, except they stop 
my breath, shall shut my mouth, or arrest my testimony. 
The congregation was, as I have said, astonishingly large; 
but order and silence were gradually restored, and I had 
uncommon freedom in the illustration, and defence of 
those sacred truths, which will be ultimately triumphant. 
Two or three succeeding lecture evenings were unmolest- 
ed, when the business of stoning me in the pulpit, was 
again resumed; my friends were in terror, and, after I 
had closed, forming a strong phalanx around me, they at- 
tended me home. Many religious people were violent 
in their opposition; they insisted that I merited the sever- 
est punishment; that the old discipline for heretics ought 



210 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



to be put in force, and I was thus furnished with abundant 
reason to bless God for the religious liberty of the country 
of my adoption, else racks and tortures, would have been 
put in operation against me, nor would these holy men, 
moved by the spirit, have stopped short of my destruction. 
Yet was the charge of heresy never proved against me. 
I was never silenced either by reason or scripture — I had 
called upon men every where, clergymen, or laymen, to 
step forward, and convict me of error; promising imme- 
diately upon conviction, to relinquish the obnoxious 
tenet, whatever it might chance to be, end to adopt that 
better way, which would, in such an event, become lumi- 
nous before me. Truth, and gratitude, originates the con- 
fession, that in all circumstances, I have hitherto had rea- 
son to bless the God of my life who hath promised, He 
will be with me to the end of the world, and that all things 
shall work together for good. Amen, and amen. 



CHAPTER VII. 

S&mmary Record of Events, from January 1775 to October 
1809. 

Amid the haunts of memory let me stray, 
As duty, love, and friendship, point the way ; 
With hand of diligence: and humid eye, 
The faithful record tearfully supply. 

Would the beloved preacher had continued his narra- 
tive. The Editor fondly calculating upon assistance which 
she believed herself authorised to expect, pledged herself 
to continue the sketch, even to the closing scene. But, 
alas! disappointed in her cherished hopes, she stands 
alone. Her health is broken, her spirits are depressed, 
and she is advanced in life; yea, doubtless, she is inade- 
quate to the performance of her promise — But she remem- 
bers that this voiume is addressed only to the friends of 
the dear departed, and she mournfully proceeds to its com- 
pletion. 

Upon December 14, 1774, Mr. Murray again visited 
Gloucester; the numerous family of the Sargonts then 
seated in that place, embraced in almost all its branches, 
the truth as it is in Jesus, and their attachment to him, 
whom they believed an ambassador of the Redeemer, was 
proportioned to their zeal. Man} 7 respectable names 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY 



211 



were added, and a little congregation was collected, who 
seemed to have among them but one heart, and one soul. 
Like the primitive Christians, they assembled daily and 
they continued from house to house worshipping the only 
true God their Saviour. On recurrence to the journal of 
the preacher we find a memorandum, written upon his 
second visit to Gloucester, which is thus worded: 6 Here 
my God grants me rest from my toils, here I have a taste 
of heaven. The new song is sung here, and worthy is 
the Lamb constantly dwells upon their tongues. 5 Mr. 
Chandler's meeting-house was not closed against the pro- 
mulgator of glad tidings, until some time in January, 1775, 
upon the 20th of which month he made a second journey to 
Nevvburyport and Portsmouth. Those who had adhered 
to him in those towns, having ascertained that he abso- 
lutely believed the final restitution of all things, united 
with the many in the most unqualified censure. But the 
friends he had lost, particularly in Portsmouth, were re- 
placed by many others, among whom we find the names 
of Judge, and Sheriff Parker, Atkinson, Wentworth, Aus- 
tin, Warner, Sheafe, Langdon, Sewall, Brackett, Whip- 
ple, Thompson, Turner, Gardner, Massey, Jackson, &c. 
&c. The heaven-instructed preacher continued many 
years an occasional visitor in Portsmouth, where his la- 
bors were greatly blessed, and when other pulpits were 
closed against him in that metropolis, the doors of the 
Episcopal Church were open for his reception. But after 
he had repeatedly lectured in that church, a few persons 
appeared in opposition, and we have this moment under 
our eye, an original writing, addressed to the promulgator 
upon this occasion; we transcribe a verbatim copy: 
6 Whereas it is represented that some objections have been 
made by one, or more persons, belonging to the Church call- 
ed Queens Chapel, against the doors thereof being opened 
for the admission of Mr. John Murray to preach the gos- 
pel; Wherefore, we the subscribers, proprietors, and 
parishioners of the Church aforesaid, having taken the same 
into consideration — Do (in order to remove any difficulties 
that might arise in that gentleman's breast in consequence 
of such objections) hereby fully declare our free will, and 
consent, that the said Church be opened at all times, 
whenever it may be convenient for him to perform divine 
service in town, more especially during his present stay; 
and, instead of deeming it an indulgence granted him, we 
shall, on the contrary, acknowledge it a favor conferred 
on us, in his acceptance of this invitation. Portsmouth, 
May 24, 1781. 5 — Signed by twenty -four of the leading 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



members of the Church in Portsmouth. Our preacher 
was also made the instrument of irradiating the mind of 
an exemplary philanthropist, Mr. Noah Parker; now in 
regions of blessedness, who was so deeply penetrated, as 
to present himself a servant of the living God, a voluntary 
preacher of the Gospel. A convenient house was raised 
for his use 5 by the brethren in Portsmouth, and he contin* 
ued, until his departure out of time, a zealous and able 
minister of the Reconciliation. 

Attached to the Gloucesterians, Mr. Murray once more 
believed he had found a permanent residence; yet, al- 
though he consented to consider that place as his home; 
he did not relinquish the persuasion that his commission 
obliged him to go forth a preacher of the Gospel, where- 
ever, and whenever the providence of God might seem to 
direct him. The inveteracy of his enemies in the town of 
Gloucester, was in full proportion to the attachment of 
his friends, and every means of annoyance was in requisi- 
tion. The spirit of liberty mounted very high in Glou- 
cester, and for the purpose of influencing the ignorant, 
the teacher was proclaimed a Papist, sent out by Lord 
North, to aid the purpose of an obnoxious ministry; 
anathemas, and sometimes stones, followed his steps as 
he passed the streets; a town-meeting was called, the aim 
of which (lest the friends of the promulgator should take 
the alarm) was most illegally shrouded in silence, and a 
vote was thus surreptitiously obtained, that he should 
forthwith depart from the borders of Gloucester; of this 
vote he was advertised by an officer — let us not say of 
justice. Still, however, he continued witnessing both to 
small and great, what Moses and the prophets had testi- 
fied concerning Jesus of Nazereth, that he died for our 
sins, and arose again for our justification. The most un- 
warrantable means were employed, old slanders were re- 
suscitated, and new accusations brought forward; tales 
which had been repeatedly confuted, were new garbed, 
and sent abroad, swelling the bosom of integrity with un- 
utterable anguish. Among countless other calumnies 
which were afloat, a story was embellished, and published 
originally propagated by one Maxwell, wherein the 
preacher, the lover of the Redeemer, is represented as 
treating the Eucharist in a ludicrous manner ! although 
the gentleman — Mr, afterwards General Greene, at whose 
house, and in whose presence, the irreverent profanation 

was said to have taken place — had written to Doctor S 

and others, completely exonerating the accused. Mr. 
Murray's sentiments upon the sacred and consolatory or- 



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LIFE OF REV. J3HN MURRAY. 



213 



dinance of the Lord's Supper, are explained and expati- 
ted upon, in his Letters and Sketches of Sermons, to 
which the interested reader is referred. It cannot be de- 
nied, that characters generally respectable combined to 
stimulate the mob to the most desperate measures, but 
every unwarrantable project was frustrated. The doors 
of the meeting-house being now closed, the parlors of re- 
spectable friends became the places of assembling, until 
at length a spacious room was consecrated for that pur- 
pose. Letters of excommunication were now addressed, 
by the established Minister, to seventeen of the most re- 
spectable Church members, and this, for their attachment 
to the Gospel of God our Saviour. While others, avail- 
ing themselves of a Provincial Law, endeavored to expel 
the Ambassador of their God, as a vagrant. To meet, 
and obviate w r hich difficulty, the kind friend under whose 
especial patronage he then was, presented him with a 
deed of gifts which constituted him a freeholder in Glou- 
cester. The months of March and April, in this year, 
were, by the preacher, devoted to visiting his friends in 
Boston, and various parts of Rhode Island, and toward 
the close of April, he returned to his highly favored home, 
rejoicing that the zeal, and attachment of ths Glouces- 
terians, were nothing diminished, and their meetings for 
scriptural investigations were joyfully resumed. In the 
month of May, 1775, the leading officers of th3 Rhode Is- 
land Brigade, assembled in the neighborhood of Boston, 
despatched a respectable messenger, with a Jetter, solicit- 
ing the attendance of the promulgator, as chaplain to their 
detachment of the Revolutionary Army. We transcribe 
a verbatim copy of this letter. 

8 Dear Sir: 

c Amidst that concurrence of events which the great Cre- 
ator in infinite wisdom directs, for the accomplishment of 
his own purposes, a British armament hath set hostile 
foot upon American ground. What the design of the Al- 
mighty may be, we cannot at present absolutely determine. 
One thing we know, our cause is just } and also that the 
Parent of the universe can do no wrong. An army hath 
been raised in this Colony, which is now stationed upon 
Jamaica Plains in Roxbury, and that this army may do 
honor to themselves, and the cause in which they are em- 
barked, it is requisite that propriety of manners, regularity 
of conduct, and a due reliance upon the Almighty controll- 
er of events, should be cultivated and enforced. The most 



214 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



probable human means we can devise to effect an object 
so ardently to be desired, consist in a decent, sincere, and 
devout attendance, at opportune seasons, upon divine 
worship. We have, therefore, selected you as a Chaplain 
to our Brigade, well convinced that your extensive benev- 
olence, and abilities, will justify our choice. We cannot 
without doing violence to the opinion we have formed of 
your character, doubt of your ready compliance with our 
united request, The support you will receive shall exact- 
ly , correspond with your feelings, and your wishes. We 
are, dear sir, &,c. &c. &c. 

Signed in behalf of the Brigade. 

J. N. VARNUM. 

May 24, 1775. 

A persuasion that he could be of more use in the army, 
than else^vrhere, would not allow the preacher to balance* 
and, accordingly resigning the calm recess of friendship, 
he presented himself in the American camp, and c armed 
with the sword of Jesse's youthful son, 5 he was indeed 
most ardently engaged. The scene, however, was not 
calculated to give pleasure to a philanthropist. In a mem- 
orandum of this date, he thus expresses himself: c My 
troubles have recommenced ; I am now indeed in the world 
and shall doubtless encounter tribulation ; I am associated 
with an ungovernable set of people. It is true, the officers 
are gentlemen, and call into action every effort to strength- 
en my hands ; but the soldiers — alas ! the fact is, I am 
not in my own company. 5 Upon the 3d of July, the chap- 
lain accompanied a detachment of the Brigade, to com- 
pliment General Washington, upon his arrival to take the 
supreme command of the army at Cambridge - y and he 
was received by the immortal chief, with that urbanity 
which he so well knew to practise. The subject of the 
first sermon, preached on sabbath morning at the Camp, 
Jamaica Plains, Psalm xliv, 1, 2, 3, and upon the 
evening of the same day, the last verse of the same Psalm. 
The preacher was engaged occasionally at Jamaica Plains, 
and on Prospect Hill. Every morning at 7 o'clock he 
met the several regiments upon the parade ; gradually the 
habits of swearing, and the rough manners of the soldiery, 
yielded to the christianized eloquence of their Chaplain, 
and his success in the army was indeed most wonderfuh 
His benevolence, and benignity while there, is storied by 
many a tongue ; we indulge ourselves by selecting an in- 
stance,, which did not reach our ears, until since his 
decease. A detachment of the army were ordered to 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



215 



march, a river was to be forded ; a poor soldier in years, 
and struggling with sickness, was tottering under his bur- 
den : the preacher instantly accoutred himself with the 
knapsack, arms, and cartouch box, and, thus arrayed, pro- 
ceeded on, while the sufferer disencumbered passed lightly 
over. The writer of this sketch, could furnish a series 
of similar anecdotes ; often, when his finances have been 
at the lowest ebb, and the prodigious expense of living 
had produced distressing embarrassments, she has seen 
him extend to the necessitous, an extricating hand, and 
he not only indulged, and cherished, but invariably stimu- 
lated every charitable purpose of her soul. 

General Washington, honored the preacher with marked 
and uniform attention ; the Chaplains of the army united 
in petitioning the Chief, for the removal of the promulga- 
tor of glad tidings ; the answer was handed them, in the 
general orders of the ensuing day, which appointed Mr. 
John Murray, Chaplain of the three Rhode Island Regi- 
ments, with a command from his Excellency, George 
Washington, that he should be respected accordingly. 
Mr. Murray's commission was made out, and delivered to 
him, when enclosing it in a respectfully polite letter of 
thanks, he returned it to the noble minded Chief, earnest- 
ly requesting permission to continue in the army, as a 
volunteer. General Washington, after perusing, folded 
the paper and, observed: c Mr Murray is a young man 
now ; he will live to be old, and repentance will be the 
companion of his age. 5 The preacher lived to see this 
prediction fulfilled. Had he embraced the rich opportu- 
nity then presented he might have continued in the family 
of General Greene whose friendship was unbroken, and 
where his abode was hailed as a distinguishing favor, his 
daily ratio would have augmented for his emolument, his 
salary would have accumulated, he would have retired 
upon half pay, or commutation, and during the years of 
languor, and decrepitude, he might have commanded his 
own carriage, and servants ; but the reader must have 
seen, that the preacher was accustomed to withdraw from 
the approaches of affluence. 

Mr. Murray continued in the army so long as his health 
would permit, but being violently seized by an indisposi- 
tion, which terminated in a billious fever that precipitated 
him to the gates of the grave, he was, by the Physician of 
the Brigade, conducted to Gloucester: and no sooner was 
his health re-established, than his strongest feelings were 
powerfully excited, by the sufferings of the sons and 
daughters of want in that town. War of any description, 



$16 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



is particularly oppressive to its inhabitants, seated upon 
the margin of the ocean, their subsistence is principally 
derived from the deep. The rich sources of Commerce, 
thrown open by the genial hand of peace, became, to the 
hardy, and enterprizing Gloucesterian, legitimate objects 
of pursuit; and his uniform, and industrious efforts, are 
crowned by competency^ But whatever obstructs his ad- 
venturous plans, inevitably involves him in distress, and 
the period to which we advert was, perhaps, the most 
gloomy of any during the revolutionary war. It had con- 
tinued long enough to try without familiarizing or indu- 
rating the feelings, and hope had almost become the vic- 
tim of despair. The humane preacher surveyed those 
multiplied children of penury — and he surveyed them with 
a philanthropic eye; nor was this all — commencing a 
journey in the depth of a severe winter, he addressed the 
general officers in the American army, beginning with 
their revered Chief, and extending his application, to ma- 
ny other gentlemen, whose confidence and whose friendship 
he enjoyed. He adressed to those distinguished individ- 
uals, the voice of supplication, and so successful was his 
embassy, that he returned to Gloucester with a large sum of 
money which he converted into rice, meal, and molasses, 
rendering a scrupulous account to the selectmen, and pray- 
ing them to recommend such persons, as were proper ob- 
jects of this providential bounty; the whole was punctually 
distributed, and many sufferers most essentially relieved. 
Yet on the 27th day of February, in the succeeding year, 
1777, we find this same feeling solicitor, summoned from 
the house of a friend, Mr. Winthrop Sargent, where he 
was suffering from indisposition, and arraigned at the bar, 
of the then committee of safety, for the town, of Glouces- 
ter. Some gentleman councelled him to disregard the sum- 
mons, especially as the whole committee were not assem- 
bled, and those who were collected, were decidedly his in- 
veterate enemies, — but he answered, that possessing a 
consciousness of innocence, he could not fear the face of 
man. The following account of the extraordinary pro- 
ceeding which ensued, is from the minutes of a gentle- 
man who was an ear witness of the scene the chairman 
of the committee opened the business. 6 We have sent 
for you, to know who you are, and from whence you 
came? 5 c Your question is rather difficult, sir, I hardly 
know how to answer you, do you mean where did I come 
from last? ' c I say where did you come from. 5 ' I have 
been in various places in this country sir. c I say where 
did you come from when you came into this country? 3 



XIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 217 

L ' From England. 3 From what part of England? 5 'Lon- 
don,' 6 What business had you to come to this country? ' 
* Business, sir ! I felt disposed to come, and came — 5 c What 
business have you in this town?' c The same as I have in 
every town where I happen to sojourn.' Here one of the 
committee, arose, and requesting leave to speak, which was 
granted, said: 6 1 conceive we have sent for this man to 
know from whence he came, who he is, and what business 
he has here; this is a time of difficulty, we are at variance 
with England, he calls himself an Englishman, we do not 
know what he is. He associates with a great many, whom 
we look upon as enemies to this country, and they go to hear 
him converse — I think — I cannot call it preaching.' Here 
Mr. Murray would have spoken, but he was imperiously, 
not to say impudently commanded to be silent, and his ac- 
cuser proceeded, until at length the chairman again re- 
sumed : < Where did you come from ? We want to know 
where you were born, and brought up?' Mr. Murray an- 
swered, c Gentlemen, it is not my wish to give you unne- 
cessary trouble. I was born in England, shortly after I 
had attained my eleventh year, I accompanied my father 
to Ireland, where I continued many years under his care; 
when I was between 19 and 20, I returned to England, 
where I abode, living generally in London, until I quitted 
it for this country. Since I came into this country, my 
residence has been in Maryland, Pennsylvania, the Jer- 
seys, New- York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachu- 
setts, and New Hampshire.' ' What did you come into 
this country for?' 6 In pursuit of retirement, but concur- 
rent circumstances rendered me a preacher.' c Have you 
any credentials?' c Yes sir.' c Show them.' I have none 
present, there are many in this town who have heard me, 
and received my testimony; they are my credentials. c Ay, 
that is nothing — you see he has no authority. How could 
you think of preaching without authority?' 6 When I 
came into this country there was no war, I believed it to 
be a land of civil, and religious liberty — every charter, and 
every law made among yourselves, breathed a spirit of 
toleration, I felt assured I should be allowed liberty of con- 
science; my intentions were upright; a conviction .that 
God had ordained me to proclaim the gospel, has been pow- 
erfully impressed upon my mind, and I am still convinced, 
that I ought to preach the Gospel.' c How long do you 
intend to" stay in this town?' C I do not precisely know, 
but certainly until the weather and roads shall be good 3 
c The weather will do, and it is pretty good travelling now 5 
(At this time the winter having been extremely severe, the 
19 



218 



lilFB OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



roads were nearly impassable.) 6 1 do not believe I shall 
quit Gloucester until April, about that time I expect to 
commence a journey to Philadelphia.' 6 The town is very 
uneasy at your continuance here, and we are a committee 
of safety. We are to take up all strangers, and send them 
out of town. 5 6 Sir, I have already been warned out of 
town, and if you be apprehensive of my becoming a charge, 
I can procure bonds. 5 One of the committee addressed 
the chair for liberty to speak, which having obtained, he 
said: 6 Your stay in this town, is cause of uneasiness to 
many; you hurt the morals of the people, and a great ma- 
ny who hear you are enemies to the country. 5 Mr. Mur- 
ray responded — * Those who hear me, and "believe what I 
deliver, can never be injured in their morals. 5 c I do not 
believe you. 5 6 You have not heard all I have said in de- 
fence of my persuasion. 5 6 1 have heard enough, I neither 
believe, nor like it. 3 c Well, sir, there is no act of assem- 
bly to compel you to hear; but you should remember your 
neighbor is entitled to equal liberty with yourself. 5 6 You 
deliver very erroneous principles. 5 ' My principles are all 
to be found in the sacred records of divine truth. 5 c Ay, . 
so you say. 5 6 1 was not apprized that I was cited before 
a spiritual court. 5 Mr. Murray then addressed the chair 
— ( Sir, this gentleman asserts that I associate with a great 
many enemies of this country. I demand that they be 
pointed out. If I associate with an individual of this des- 
cription, it is unknown to me. 5 A gentleman at the chair- 
man's elbow observed: £ Mr. chairman, I think we have 
no business to answer this man a single question: we did 
not send for him to answer his questions, but to ask ques- 
tions of him. 5 The chairman then repeated, that the town 
was very uneasy, and advised Mr. Murray to depart to 
prevent further trouble: to which he answered. 8 Sir, I 
have been nearly seven years in this country; perhaps no 
one has a more extensive acquaintance; I have many 
friends, and many enemies. I feel that I am a friend to 
all mankind, and I am happy that no circumstance of my 
life can prove the contrary. 1 was invited to this town, 
and 1 have been cordially received, but it seems I am sus- 
pected, because I associate with many who are enemies to 
this country. I associate with Captain W. S. — pray is he 
an enemy? During my residence in this place, I have 
never heard a syllable uttered, which this committee ought 
to consider as reprehensible. I am not acquainted with a 
single individual who appears to be an enemy to this coun- 
try : two or three worthy characters 1 know, who do not 
perfectly approve every measure which has been adopted. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



219 



I have recently endeavored to recollect how many gentle- 
men, the circle of my connexions from Maryland to New 
Hampshire contained, who were suspected of being un- 
friendly to the present order of things, and I could number 
but five persons, not an individual of whom has ever been 
proved inimical to American prosperity. For myself, 1 
rejoice in the reflection, that I am a staunch friend to lib- 
erty, genuine liberty. It is well known that I have labor- 
ed to promote the cause of this country, and I rejoice that 
I have not labored in vain. I am so well known, and I 
have the happiness to be so well respected, that his Ex- 
cellency, General Washington, appointed me to officiate^ 
as chaplain to several regiments. I should have imagined 
this fact would have been sufficient credentials here. 
I have injured no person in this town. I am invited to 
meet my friends, in the house of a friend, where they 
desire me to read the Bible, to comment thereon, and 
to unite with them in solemn prayer to Almighty God, for 
the continuance of his mercies to us, as a people, and 
not unto us only, but to a once lost, and now redeemed 
world. 5 A member of the committee observed, that 
they could not be answerable for any thing that might be 
done by a mob, and, it was not in their power to prevent 
it, if he did not, without delay, leave the town. Mr. 
Murray laying his spread hand upon his breast answer- 
ed: c Sir, I feel such a consciousness of innocence here, 
that I kuow not what it is to fear. It is with perfect 
composure that I commit myself to God, and the laws of 
this Commonwealth. If I have broken any law, let me 
be punished by law; but I bless God I am not a lawless 
person. Sir, I am a stranger to fear, I have committed 
no action worthy of punishment. Sir, I know not what it 
is to fear. No man can have any power over me, except 
it be given to him from above; no injury can be done me, 
but by the permission of my God. But I am not afraid; 
the worst this mob can do, is to deprive me of a life, which 
I have been many years quite willing to resign. Sir, I 
commit myself and my cause to the Ruler of Heaven and 
of Earth.' One gentleman observed, that the rule upon 
Earth was delegated to them, or words to that effect — 
when Mr. Murray replied : ( Sir, I conceive the God of 
Heaven is the only Ruler in Heaven above, and in Earth 
beneath' — and, addressing the chair, he added : 6 Sir, I, 
have answered every question you have thought proper 
to ask — and as I find it difficult to speak, I am so very ill, 
I will take leave to wish you a good evening. Gentlemen 
good night' — when, without interruption he departed. 



220 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

Alas alas ! how tyrannical is the dominion of preju- 
dice ! in this instance it precipitated men, respectable men, 
who in the common occurrences of life, had uniformly 
preserved a decent reputation, upon a procedure the most 
absurd and unwarrantable. Interrogations so unceremo- 
niously made to a person, who, as the almoner of his God, 
had the preceding year, fed large numbers of their almost 
famished poor, who had never committed any act of 
violence, or discovered the smallest inclination to aid the 
enemies of the new world, was, as we trust, a singular 
outrage. But Mr. Murray was a Christian, and after the 
way that they called heresy, so worshipped he the God of 
his fathers; he could not therefore be allowed to merit 
either confidence or gratitude. 

On the Christmas day of 1780, Mr. Murray first preach- 
ed in a small neat building, erected for his use, by the 
Gloucesterians. His adherents, associated for public 
worship, had, as they believed, organized themselves, and 
solemnly covenanting together, they conceived themselves 
an independent church of Christ. A writing was 
prepared, signed by every individual of the congregation, 
in which, after dilating upon the fundamental principles 
of the faith they had embraced, they professed to acknowl- 
edge, as Christians, no Master but Jesus Christ, receiving 
as their guide in spiritual matters, only the word and 
spirit of the Redeemer; but they pledged themselves to 
the community at large, and to each other, to yield obedi- 
ence to every ordinance of man, to be peaceable and obedi- 
ent subjects to the powers ordained of God, in all civil 
cases. But as subjects of that King, whose kingdom is 
not of this world; they denied the right of any human 
authority to make laws for the regulation or their conscien- 
ces; they rejoiced in the liberty wherewith Christ had 
made them free, and they determined no more to be 
entangled by any yoke of bondage. They professed a 
disposition to live peaceably with all men, to avoid unne- 
cessary disputation; and, should they be reviled, to en- 
deavor in patience to possess their souls. We make 
from this solemn instrument the following extract. 

c As an independent church of Christ thus bound 
together by the cords of his love, and meeting together in 
His name, we mutually agree to receive as our Minister 
that is, our servant, sent to labor amongst us, in the work 
of the Gospel, by the great Lord of the Vineyard, our 
friend and brother, John Murray. This we do, from a 
full conviction, that the same God, who sent the first 
preachers of Jesus Christ, sent him; and that the same 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



221 



Gospel they preached we have from time to time received 
from him. Thus, believing him a Minister of the New 
Testament, constantly declaring the whole counsel of 
God, proclaiming the same divine truth that all God's 
holy prophets from the beginning of the world have de- 
clared; we cordially receive him as a messenger from 
God. And as it hath pleased God to open a great and 
effectual door, for the preaching of His Gospel, by this 
His servant, in sundry parts of this great continent; when- 
ever it shall please his and our divine Master, to call him 
to preach the everlasting Gospel elsewhere, we will wish 
him God speed; and pray that the good will of Him who 
dwelt in the bush, may accompany him, and make his 
way clear before him. 5 

Thus we repeat, the little congregation in Gloucester 
considered themselves an independent church of 
Christ. They were conscious that they had, in every 
instance, demeaned themselves as good citizens, and that 
their utmost efforts had uniformly been embodied, for the 
advancement of the public weal; they felt themselves de- 
servedly invested with the privileges and immunities of 
free citizens, entitled to those liberties, with which God 
and nature had endowed them, and which they believed 
to be secured to them by a constitution of government, 
happily established by the people of this commonwealth. 
Dissenting essentially from the doctrines taught by the 
established minister, they had borne an early testimony 
against his settlement: and they humbly hoped it would be 
sufficient for them to believe the holy scriptures, and 
to adopt the pure system of morals contained therein, as 
the rule of their conduct, and the man of their coun- 
sel. They rejoiced in the liberty of free inquiry, guar- 
anteed by the strong arm of government; and they felic- 
itated themselves, that they had been ushered into being at 
a time, when that fearful period had gone by, which arming 
the Religionists with the potent vengeance of civil authori- 
ty, wrapped the whole world in a cloud of impenetrable 
darkness, debilitated the human intellect, by closing the 
door of free inquiry, and gave birth to eight hundred years 
of ignorance, and barbarism, unequalled by any preceding 
era; whence arose an awful chasm in the history of the 
world and men ceased to think because thinking was a 
crime. The Gloucesterians adopted the idea of a respecta- 
ble writer, who considered Ordination as nothing more 
than the solemn putting a man into his place, and office 
in the Church, a right to which he had obtained by previ- 
ous election, which, together with his voluntary acceptance 



222 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

of such election, became a legitimate base, upon which 
was founded the relationship between pastor and flock. 
Thus, as the word ordain signifies no more than to ap- 
point, they conceived that the election, and not the laying 
on of hands, completed the ordination. Reposing upon 
tfie second and third article in the declaration of rights, 
the Gloucesterians exultingly said: ( No subject shall be 
hurt, molested, or restrained in his person, liberty, or es- 
tate, for worshipping God in the manner and season most 
agreeable to the dictates of his own conscience; or for his 
religious profession or sentiments, provided he doth not 
disturb the public peace, or obstruct others in their reli- 
gious worship. All religious societies shall, at all times, 
have the exclusive right of electing their public teachers, 
and of contracting with them for their support and main- 
tenance. And all monies paid by the subject to the support 
of public worship, shall, if he require it, be uniformly ap- 
plied to the support of the public teacher or teachers of his 
own religious sect or denomination, provided there be any 
on whose instruction he attends.' Hut while the Glouces- 
terians were confidingly singing a requiem to their cares, 
they beheld, to their great astonishment, and no small 
dismay, their goods seized by an officer, and sold at auc- 
tion, for the purpose of answering the demands of the es- 
tablished minister. Articles of plate from one, English 
goods from another, and, from a third, the anchor of a 
vessel on the point of sailing. 

It was, as we believe, in the autumn of 1782, that this 
act of violence took place. An action was instituted by 
the independent church of Christ in Gloucester. Mr. 
Murray was urged to allow the prosecution to proceed in 
his name. His reluctance to this step was decided and 
affecting. He had passed through the country without 
even allowing or accepting contributions; and, to be con- 
sidered a prosecutor for monies, said to be due to him, 
for preaching the gospel which he had determined to pro- 
mulgate free as the light of heaven! the very idea was a 
stab to his long cherished feelings: it appeared to him 
like prostrating the integrity of his character, and strip- 
ping him of those honors, which he had fondly hoped 
would remain forever unshorn. The situation of his 
mind, upon this occasion, may be gathered from two ex* 
tracts of letters, addressed to him by a respetcable gentle- 
man: c You know the inducement I had to engage in this 
cause was to be emancipated from the shackles of a ponti- 
ficate! and my aversion was ever determined, from having 
the suit brought in your name, as well from your abhor- 



Life of rev. john Murray. £25 

£ence as that the result, however favorable, would nog 
establish us upon the broad base of genuine freedom* 
However, I am now convinced from reflection, that our 
cause will be ruined, unless you assume it. Mr. Hitch- 
borne was clear it ought to have been in your name be- 
fore; at our pressing request, he drew the last writ* Mr. 
Sullivan has declared it must be in your name. Mr. Pyn- 
chon (allowed on all hands to be deeply versed in the in- 
tricacies of the law) assured a gentleman, he would War- 
rant success, and even undertake the conducting the cause 
if the proper use were made of your name. Mr SewalPs 
opinion is in unison with Mr. Pynchon. I hate delay and 
indecision, and shall lament if chicane and political views 
must prevail over the purest intentions. 3 

To this letter Mr. Murray responded, in terms descrip- 
tive of much anguish of spirit, and his sympathizing friend 
immediately replied; 

c I essay not to communicate the impression which you** 
letter has made upon me; would that pen and paper were 
adequate to express all that could be conveyed by the 
tongue. Shall I be condemned for being of an unsteady 
disposition, or shall I be justified in my change of senti- 
ment, from the variety of events? Be it as it may, it mat- 
ters not; your letter has produced another alteration in 
my mind; your conflict between the resolution you have 
taken, and the interest of your friends, which, I am per- 
suaded, is very dear to you, is carried on in your breast to a 
degree of agony. I see how distressing it is for you, even 
in appearance, to stand forth and contend for what you 
have so nobly held in sovereign contempt. In this point 
of view it ceases to be a question. Let the idea of inter- 
est perish; I had rather a large part of mine, dear as it 
is, should be wrested from me, than that you should sac- 
rifice any portion of your peace or vour honor; therefore, 
I entreat you, my dear sir, do no violence to your feel* 
ings. Thank God, the truth of our cause does not depend 
upon the decision of a court of judicature; and admit the 
worst, it is only what we are bidden to expect, that this 
world is opposed to the other. Justice, however, notwith- 
standing my sympathy for you, urges me to repeat that 
our lawyers see no rational prospect of success, but from 
your becoming a principal in the business. If you can 
bend your mind, well; take time to deliberate; delays in 
law, perhaps, are not so dangerous as in other affairs; at 
any rate I entreat you to become more tranquil; I had 
rather make payment to parson F • ■ - ■ than that you 
should thus suffer.' 



£24 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 

1 The preacher, under the direction of many importuning 
friends, loaned his name, which step was to him a perma- 
nent subject of regret. Trials succeeded trials, review 
after review, at Salem, and at the supreme judicial court, 
held at Ipswich, 1783, 1784, and 1785. 

The pleaders seemed an invincible phalanx, and the 
mind-bending eloquence of the honorable Mr. King was 
indeed a most potent aid. Men characterized the oratory 
of that gentleman, as persuading commanding, and like 
an irresistible torrent, bearing down every obstacle. 
Many of the senior advocates seemed so to feel, and ac- 
knowledge the superiority of Mr. King as to surrender to 
him the right of closing causes of great importance ; and 
a high law character declared, that, had he a cause de- 
pending of the greatest intricacy and magnitude, to be 
plead before the first tribunal in the world, he would pre- 
fer Mr. King as his advocate, to any man he had ever 
heard speak. Previous, however, to the adjudication of 
1785, when a verdict in favor of the plaintiffs, by the suf- 
frage of the jury, (exclusive of the judges) was obtained, 
the political career of this celebrated character removed 
him from their counsel, and their cause was committed to, 
and ably supported by, Mr. afterwards Governor Sullivan, 
and Judge Tudor. The late Chief Justice Parsons, and 
Mr. Bradbury were counsel for the defendants. The Glou- 
cesterians, in their appeal to the ' impartial public, 5 perti- 
nently observed that the decision of the question agitated 
respecting them ultimately involved every citizen of the 
commonwealth, and instantly affected the several relig- 
ious orders of Episcopalians, Baptists. Presbyterians, 
Sandemanians, Quakers, and every other denomination 
of Christians, who, in this state, were called sectaries.* 

I * The following extract from the Modern History of Universalism, a 
work which ought to be in the hands of all who feel interested in the 
cause of truth, may not be unacceptable to the reader. 

' This case was kept in court for a long time. Trial succeeded trial, 
and review followed review, at Salem and at Ipswich, in 1783, and 
1784, and 1785. In the fall of the latter year a wri: of review was 
again served, but the final decision was deferred until June 1786, when 
a verdict was given in favor of Mr. Murray. The conduct of Judge 
Dana attracted particular notice. The view he had taken of the case 
in former trials was unfavorable to the plaintiff; but a revolution had 
passed in his mind. When he noticed that article in the Constitution 
which directs that monies may be applied by each person to teachers 
of his own religious sect, he said the whole cause depended upon the 
construction of that clause. He had before been of opinion it meant 
teachers of bodies corporate ; he then thought otherwise ; as the Con- 
stitution was meant for a liberal purpose, its construction should be of 
a most liberal kind $ it meant, in this instance, teachers of any persua- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Upon the objection, that their teacher was not a preach- 
er of piety, religion, and morality, they mildly observed: 
They were not convinced that the question could be deter- 
mined from a revision of the motives he offered as to the 
rewards which are to be bestowed, or punishments inflict- 
ed in another world ; they rather supposed it should be de- 
cided upon the evidence of his urging the people to piety 
and morality, as the foundation of the greatest good of 
which their natures were capable, and as a compliance 
with the will of their Almighty Creator and Preserver. 
They believed, that the scriptures affirmed, that God 
would punish men for sin, even in this world, in a manner 
which would far, very far overbalance the pleasures to be 
derived from vice. They conceived, that the idea that 
it was necessary to the good order of government, that 
the teachers of religion should thunder out the doctrine of 
everlasting punishment to deter men from atrocious crimes, 
which they might otherwise commit in secret, had long 
been hackneyed in the hands of men in power, but with- 
out any warrant from reason or revelation. Reason, 
without the aid of revelation, gave no intimation of a state 
of retribution beyond the grave : and the gospel brought 
life and immortality to light: nor said they, was it until 
the Christian church was illegally wedded to state policy, 
that men in power dared to hurl the thunders of the Most 
High at those who offended against government. But, 
they added, should the point be maintained, that courts 
and juries are authorized to determine, whether the teach- 
er of a religious sect is a teacher of morality, from his 
opinion either of the cause, mode, or state of men's happi- 
ness or misery in another world, or from his opinion of 
the nature, or proportions of the rewards for virtue, or the 
punishments for vice in a future state, no sect or denomi- 
nation could be safe, it being a matter resting on opinion 
only, without any earthly tribunal having the ability or 
authority to settle the question. Suppose an Episco- 
palian teacher should have an action in his name to 
recover the money, paid by his hearers. Perhaps he 

s ion whatever Jew or Mahometan. It would be for the Jury to deter- 
mine, if Mr. Murray was a teacher of piety, religion and morality ; that 
matter, he said, had in his opinion been fully proved. The only ques- 
tion, therefore, before them was, if Mr. Murray came within the 
description of the Constitution, and had a right to require the money. 
* It is my opinion/ he declared, 1 that Mr. Murray comes within the 
description of the Constitution, and has a right to require the money.' 
Having been out all night, the jury returned a verdict in the morning 
in favor of the plaintiffs 



226 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

might be one, who subscribed and sworn to the thirty-nine 
articles, the truth of which is well supported by act of parlia- 
ment: an objection might be made from one of the articles, 
that tells us, God from all eternity elected a certain number 
to happiness, and predestinated all the rest of the human 
race to everlasting misery ; and this of his own sovereign 
will, without any regard to the merit of the one or the demer- 
it of the other. A jury might be found, who would decide 
at once, that this doctrine is subversive of all morality and 
good order ; for, if the state of every man be unalterably 
fixed from all eternity, and nothing done by him can in any 
wise change the divine decree, why, then the elect may 
conceive themselves justified in seeking to injure those, 
whom God from eternity has consigned to perdition. 

But should an Arminian be in trial, and it appeared he 
taught his people it was within their own power to procure 
future happiness, a jury might not be able to distinguish 
between the prescience and the foreordination of God ; and 
it might be called impiety to allege, that the infinitely wise 
Being did not from all eternity know the ultimate fate of 
all his creatures. It would at least be called derogatory to 
the honor of the Most High, to suppose any thing to be con- 
tingent with Him ; and therefore a teacher of such princi- 
ples might in the eye of some persons be viewed as a teach- 
er of impiety and immorality. From these and various 
other considerations, the Gloucesterians humbly conceived, 
that religion was a matter between an individual and his 
God ; that no man had a right to dictate a mode of worship 
to another ; that, in that respect, every man stood upon a 
perfect equality; and they believed that the paucity of 
their numbers, and the prejudices of their enemies, had 
pointed them out as proper objects for the first essay of 
religious tyranny ; hence they rather chose to seek redress 
from the great law, made by the people to govern the 
Legislature, than from the Legislature itself ; believing 
they should betray the freedom of their country, if they 
timidly shrunk from a trial, upon the great principles of 
the constitution, indeed they seemed to consider themselves 
as the Hamdens of our religious world. 

In the course of the month of September, 1785, a writ 
of review was again served, and the final decision was 
referred, and deferred, until the June of 1786, when a 
conclusive verdict was obtained in favor of the plaintiffs. 
Mr. Murray was then in the state of Connecticut. We 
transcribe an extract from a letter, which wafted to the 
eye and ear of the promulgator intelligence of the emanci- 
pation of his adherents. 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

* Last Tuesday our party with their cloud of witnesses 
were present, and called out at the bar of the Supreme 
Judicial Court. The cause was opened by Mr. Bradbury, 
and replied to by Mr. Hitchborne; the court adjourned to 
the succeeding morning. I arrived just in season to hear 
it taken up by Mr. Parsons, and closed by Mr. Sullivan. 
I wish for an opportunity to render my acknowledgments 
to this gentleman. He displayed upon this day an elo- 
quence, not less than Roman. The judges summed up 
the whole. The first was ambiguous, the second was so 
trammelled, and inarticulate, as to be scarcely understood; 
but the remaining three have acquired a glory which will 
be as lasting as time. The conduct of Judge Dana at- 
tracted particular notice. You remember he heretofore 
labored against us; there appeared a disposition to travers 
our counsil; in his comments on the constitution, those 
parts which made for us, he turned against us; he assert- 
ed the tax was not persecuting, but legal; religious socie- 
ties were bodies corporate, or meant to be so; sect and 
denomination were promiscuously used and synonimous: 
and the whole was delivered with a sententious gravity, 
the result of faculties, laboriously cultivated by experience 
and study. But a revolution had now passed in his mind, 
and when he noticed that article in the constitution, which 
directs monies to be applied to the teacher of his own 
religious sect, he said, the whole cause depended upon 
the construction of that clause. He had heretofore been 
of opinion, it meant teachers of bodies corporate; he then 
thought otherwise; as the constitution was meant for a 
liberal purpose, its construction should be of a most liberal 
kind; it meant, in this instance, teachers of any persuasion 
whatever, Jew or Mahometan. It would be for the jury- 
to determine, if Mr. Murray was a teacher of piety, 
religion, and morality; that matter, he said, had in his 
opinion been fully proved. The only question therefore 
before them was, if Mr. Murray came within the de- 
scription of the constitution, and had a right to require the 
money. 6 It is my opinion, 5 he decidedly declared, ( that 
Mr. Murray comes within the description of the constitu- 
tion, and has a right to require the money. 5 The jury 
received the cause, and departed the court at half past 
three. In the evening they returned, with a declaration, 
that they could not agree. The Chief Judge, with some 
asperity, ordered them to take the papers and go out 
again; they continued in deliberation through the whole 
night. Thursday morning they came in again, declaring 
their unanimous agreement, that the judgment obtained 



228 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

the preceding year was in nothing erroneous. Thus have 
we gained our cause, after trials of such expectation and 
severity. We rejoice greatly. It is the Lord's doings, 
and marvellous in our eyes. 5 

Mr. Murray continued uniformly to devote the summer 
months to his multiplied adherents, from Maryland to 
New-Hampshire : in what manner, is copiously described 
in his Letters and Sketches of Sermons. In the February 
of 1783, we find the preacher, as usual, deeply interested 
in the cause of his Great Master, and suggesting, in a 
letter to his friend and fellow-laborer, Mr. Noah Parker, 
the propriety of an annual meeting of the heralds of re- 
demption; his words are: c Indeed it would gladden my 
heart, if every one who stands forth a public witness of 
the truth as it is in Jesus, could have an opportunity of 
seeing and conversing one with another, at least once 
every year. I believe it would be attended with very 
good effects. Think of it, my friend, and let me know 
the result of your deliberation. I think these servants of 
the Most High might assemble one year at Norwich, one 
year at Boston, and another at Portsmouth, or wherever 
it may be most convenient. I have long contemplated an 
association of this description; and the longer I deliberate, 
the more I am convinced of the utility which would be 
annexed to the regulation. 5 In the September of 1785, 
the preacher, writing to the same friend, thus expresses 
himself: 'Although very much indisposed, I am com- 
mencing a journey to Oxford, where I expect to meet a 
number of our religious brethren, from different towns, 
in which the gospel has been preached and believed, for 
the purpose of deliberating upon some plan, to defeat the 
designs of our enemies, who aim at robbing us of the 
liberty, wherewith the constitution has made us free. On 
my return, I shall communicate to you the result of our 
meeting. 5 Upon the close of the same month of Septem- 
ber, he thus writes : c Well, I have been to Oxford, and 
the assembly convened there was truly primitive. We 
deliberated, first, on a name; secondly, on the propriety 
of being united in our common defence; thirdly, upon the 
utility of an annual meeting of representatives from the 
different societies; and fourthly, upon keeping up a constant 
correspondence by letter. Each of the particulars are to be 
laid before the societies, represented by their delegates on 
this occasion, and, if approved, their approbation to be 
announced by circular letters, to the several societies. 
Mr. Winchester delivered a most excellent sermon; his 
subject was, c But though we, or an angel from heaven, 



*LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY. 

preach any other gospel unto you, than that which we 
iiave preached unto you, let him be accursed. 5 By the 
desire of Mr. Winchester, I closed the subject. 5 

Thus was a convention formed, and, we may add, 
organized, by the Father of Universalism in this country. 
But, alas ! in no long time, a root of bitterness sprang up, 
which destroyed his pleasure in the association. Yet, in 
the last stage of his pilgrimage, he frequently regretted, 
that his attendance upon this convention had not been 
more uniform; as he might possibly, by his years and his 
experience, have met and obviated the difficulties which 
distressed him. Mr. Winchester, searching the bible for 
arguments to confute Mr. Murray, became himself a 
Universalis^ but he was a Universalist of the Chauncian 
school. He was a man of pure morals, and an ardent 
lover of the Redeemer. 

At this period, in addition to the houses erected in 
Gloucester, and in Portsmouth, a convenient place for 
public worship was procured by the Universalists in the 
city of Philadelphia; and, in the city of New York, a 
church had been purchased, which they forbore to open, 
until it could be dedicated by the peace-speaking voice of 
the promulgator. In the course of the autumn or winter 
of 1785, the Bostonians purchased a meeting-house in 
Ben net-street. This house they enlarged and beautified; 
here Mr. Murray was occasionally their officiating minis- 
ter. And in the metropolis of Pennsylvania, New York, 
and Massachusetts, he was earnestly solicited to take up 
his residence. 

Previous to the decision obtained by the Gloueesterians, 
a prosecution was commenced against their preacher, for 
performing the marriage ceremony. Persuaded that he 
was commissioned by his God to preach the gospel, and 
knowing that he was ordained by the people to whom he 
administered, he believed himself authorized to receive 
the nuptial vows of as many among his adherents 3 as, 
furnished with the requisite certificates, made application 
to him for this purpose A single instance was selected 
by his implacable foes, and a special verdict obtained, 
which condemned the preacher to pay a fine of fifty 
pounds. But this was not all; he had frequently perform- 
ed the marriage ceremony* Prosecution would most 
unquestionably succeed prosecution; and the sum total of 
multiplied amercements would involve difficulties not 
easily surmounted. Prudence whispered the persecuted 
man of God, that he ought to absent himself until the 
interference of the Legislature could be obtained; and 
20 



230 



I/IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



inclination pointed his way over the pathless deep, for the 
purpose of once more visiting his native shores, holding 
sweet converse with a few select friends, and folding to 
his filial bosom his venerable mother. Assured of the 
propriety of a step so important to his numerous Ameri- 
can connexions, on the 6th of January, 1788, he embarked 
for England. Noble provision was made for him by the 
Bostonians, and all the expenses of the voyage defrayed. 
Russell, the benevolent Russell, was his friend. Russell 
the philanthropist; who, like his God, delighted in speak- 
ing peace to the sons and daughters of adversity. Dear 
sympathizing friend of man ! to the children of sorrow thy 
memory is right precious. Had thy stinted abilities been 
commensurate with thy will, the voice of gladness would 
have resounded in every dwelling. Nor Russell alone: 
many pressed forward, whose liberal hearts devised 
liberal things; and substantial manifestation of affection 
to the preacher were abundant and munificent. 

During Mr. Murray's absence, the Legislature was ad- 
dressed. We regret that we cannot exhibit a complete 
copy of the petitions which were presented, but such ex- 
tracts, as we can command, we transcribe: 

c To the honorable Senate, and the House of Represen- 
tatives of the commonwealth of Massachusetts, assembled 
in Boston, in February, 1788; John Murray, of Glouces- 
ter, in the county of Essex, would humbly represent to 
your Honors that about seventeen years ago, he came in- 
to this country which he considered as the assylum of re- 
ligion and benevolence; that on his arrival he began to 
preach the gospel of peace; in doing which he met with 
many cordial friends some of whom, namely, a society of 
Christians in Gloucester, distinguished themselves by their 
uniform attachment to the message, and the messenger; 
and after your petitioner had occasionally labored among 
them, for a considerable time, they associated together, as 
an Independent church, built a meeting-house, and invi- 
ted your petitioner to reside with them, as their settled 
minister; and, in the month of December, in the year 
1780, did appoint, set apart and ordain him to the work of 
the ministry, and to be their teacher of piety, religion, and 
morality; that ever since that period^, he has considered 
himself, and has been considered by the people he has 
statedly labored amongst, as their ordained minister, and 
though your petitioner has, on sundry occasions, visited; 
and labored amongst his Christian friends, in other places, 
it has always been with the consent of his people, they 
still looking on him, and he on himself, as their ordained 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



2S1 



minister. It also appears, that the people, among whom 
your petitioner has frequently labored, have considered 
him in the same light; as they have formally requested 
license of his people of Gloucester, who after consultation 
granted that license. Another circumstance that tended 
to confirm your petitioner in the belief of his being an or- 
dained minister in the strictest sense of the word, and ac- 
cording to the letter and spirit of the law, was the verdict 
given in favor of him and his people, by the Honorable 
Supreme Court and jury, when, after suffering much abuse 
from their persecuting opponents in Gloucester, they were 
reduced to the necessity of applying to the laws of their 
country, for redress and protection. But their opponents, i 
dissatisfied with the verdict then obtained, demanded a 1 
review; after which review, the former verdict was con- 
firmed by the full, and decided opinion of the honorable 
court given in their favor. 

c Being thus by constitutional right, and legal decision, 
established as an independent minister, settled with, and 
ordained by, the joint surffrages of the members of that Re- 
ligious Society, your petitioner supposed his troubles from 
his persecuting enemies were at an end. And upon con- 
sulting council learned in the Iaw r who gave it as their de- 
cided opinion that he was an ordained minister, he pro- 
ceeded to perform the ceremony of marriage to such of 
his hearers, who made application to him for that purpose. 
But some of his opponents, unacquainted with the inde- 
pendent mode of ordination, and presuming your petition- 
er was not ordained, because the same ceremonies were 
not made use of in his ordination, to the use of which they 
were accustomed, brought the question of your petition- 
er's right of officiating as an ordained minister, before the 
Judges of the Supreme Judicial Court, who gave it as 
their opinion, that he was not an ordained minister, in the 
sense of the law, as the forms of his ordination were not 
sufficiently notorious. Your petitioner, and the people 
who ordained him, conceived his ordination was suffici- 
ently notorious, as the article was subscribed by every 
member of the society; and the honorable court consider- 
ed him a public teacher of Piety, Religion, and Morality. 
The recent adjudication of the honorable Judges has in- 
volved your petitioner's little flock, in Gloucester, in ex- 
pense, and exquisite distress; and your petitioner is ruin- 
ed, unless your honors can interfere for his relief. He 
must not only satisfy the heavy penalty already forfeited, 
to his said opponents, and prosecutors, but he is liable to 
repeated forfeitures of like penalties for every marriage 



LIFE OP RET. JOHN MURRAY* 

he has performed, since he has conceived himself the or- 
dained minister of that people, which must involve his 
friends in expense, or consign him to a gaol. Nor is this 
all; supposing his ordination in valid, he is, by the letter 
of the law, liable to ignominious punishment. Now, as 
equity is said to be that interference of the supreme pow- 
er, which alleviates, where the law, by being too compre- 
hensive, has involved a case to which it was not perhaps 
meant to extend * T and as he, and his people, his council, 
and the world at large, supposed him ordained, as much 
as an Episcopalian, or any other teacher, however differ- 
ent the mode of ordination, he most humbly prays your 
honors, to idemnify him for any further prosecution, for 
any marriage he may have solemnized, under his suppos- 
ed right; and by this means rescue him from the perse- 
cuting power of his malignant adversaries, restore the 
exercise of religious rites to his oppressed, and afflicted 
people, establish in the Commonwealth, in which he has 
long had his residence, that peace which has been broken 
by the malice of his enemies. Your petitioner would, in 
person have waited on such committee of your honors, as 
might be appointed to consider this petition, but his well 
grounded fears that prosecutions would be multiplied up- 
on him, by the zeal of his religious adversaries, has neces- 
itated him to absent himself from the country of his adop- 
tion, and his dear people, until such time as the clemency 
of your honors might be obtained in his behalf. 5 

The congregation in Gloucester, addressed the Legis- 
lature in a separate petition, and the Judges, Sullivan 
and Dawes, co-operated with Mr. Russell, in persevering 
efforts to obtain a decision. The petitions were referred to a 
committee of three gentlemen, of great respectability, who 
speedily prepared, and handed in their report, which was 
laid upon the speakers table, whence it was drawn forth 
by the speaker of the House, James Warren, Esq., accep- 
ted by a handsome majority, and sent up to the Senate for 
concurrence. The report was called up from the Presi- 
dent's table, by the Honorable Mr Dalton, when after a 
debate of two hours, it passed the Senate, almost unani- 
mously. This most acceptable result was made known to 
the deeply interested Gloucesterians, by a writing, of 
which the following is a verbatim copy ; 

COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS. 

In the House of Representatives, March 11th, 1788. 
Whereas John Murray, and others, have represented 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. $83 

to this court, that the said Murray, esteeming himself le- 
gally qualified, had solemnized certain marriages, and that 
by a decision had in the Superior Judicial Court, it was 
determined that the said Murray had no such authority, 
praying that he may be idemnified. Resolved, that the 
said John Murray, be, and he hereby is, indemnified from 
all pains, and penalties, which he may have incurred on 
account of having solemnized any marriages, as aforesaid, 
for which there has not been any prosecution commenced, 
or had; and the said Murray may, upon trial for any of the 
offences aforesaid, give this resolution, in evidence, upon 
the general issue, which shall have the same operation 
as if specially pleaded. 

Sent up for concurrence. James Warren, Speaker. 
In Senate, March c Zlth 1788. 

Read and concurred. Samuel Adams, President. 

Approved, JOHN HANCOCK. 

True copy; attest, 
John Avert, Jun., Secretary. 

Meantime, the persecuted, and now nobly redressed 
promulgator was speeding across the great waters. His 
passage over the Atlantic was uncommonly boisterous: 
the European winter of this year was very severe. More 
navigation, and lives, were lost, in the January and 
February of 1788, upon the tremendous coasts of Corn- 
wall, than had ever before been known, in any one 
season. At length, however, the Chalky Cliffs of his 
native shore met his gladdened view, and the heaven- 
protected vessel cast anchor in the commodious harbor of 
Falmouth. Mr. Murray was an entire stranger to this 
part of England; but, by the Bostonians and Glouceste- 
rians, he had been furnished with recommendatory letters^ 
thus worded: 

'We, the Subscribers, members of the Christian Inde- 
pendent Church in Boston, do, on behalf of ourselves and 
our brethren, by these presents, certify to all whom it may 
concern, that the bearer, Mr. John Murray, 5 (settled 
Minister of the Independent Church in Gloucester) for 
more than fourteen years past, hath occasionally labored 
among us, in this place, much to the edification, and con- 
solation of God's people; and we bless God, therefore, 
and most sincerely pray, that the good will of Him who 
dwelt in the Bush may accompany him on his way, and 
20* 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 



bring him back to his numerous friends, richly laden wita 

the blessings of the Gospel of peace.' 

c Signed by the most respectable members of the 
Church*' 

Gloucester, January 4th, 1788. 

* Be it known universally, that We the elders, on 
behalf of the Independent Church of Christ in Gloucester, 
do certify that the bearer, Mr. John Murray, is, and 
has been for many years past, our ordained minister, 
and we pray God to preserve him, and return him to us in 
safety.' 

(Signed) Winthrop Sargent, 

Epes Sargent, 
David Plummer. 

Mr. Murray was received in Falmouth, with fraternal 
kindness. The Sunday succeeding his arrival, the pulpit 
of a gentleman, once in connexion with Mr. Whitefield, 
was thrown open to him, where he preached forenoon 
and afternoon, and continued delivering evening lectures 
until February 14, when he resumed his journey by land, 
to London, proclaiming glad tidings from the pulpits, as 
he passed along, to which free access was granted him; at 
Truro Cheswater, Tregony, Mevegessey, St Austle 
Looe, in the several churches at Plymouth, and Plymouth 
Dock, Exeter, Wellington, &c. &c, he delivered his 
God-honoring, man-restoring message. Several clergy- 
men always attended his lectures, and one gentleman 
accompanied him even to Exeter. We select a few of 
the subjects, upon which he delighted to dwell. The 
lights ordained by the Creator for signs, Genesis iii, 15. 
The dress of the Jewish High Priest, the 1st Psalm, the 
89th Psalm, Zechariah ix. 9, 1st John, 4, and many 
passages drawn from Isaiah, and the Epistles of the 
Apistles of the Apostle Paul. His manner of passing his 
time, and the devout propensities of his pious heart, may 
be gathered from a short extract from his journal, a jour- 
nal replete with beauty and interest, to the christianized 
mind, and containing descriptions and remarks, worthy 
the writer: 

6 I am delighted with walking through the fields ; the 
gardens are so very beautiful, the fields so very green, the 
linnets and goldfinches so busy on the hedges, preparing 
their habitations. These songsters of the groves, which are 
vocal on every spray, are to me like old and pleasing ac- 
quaintance, not seen nor heard of for a great number of 
years, while the fascinating choristers, in whom I have 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



235 



taken so much delight, seem by their cheering notes, to wel- 
come me as I pass along their native fields and hegdges. 
The primroses, and a variety of other sweet flowers, are 
already in full bloom ; in short,every thing wears a cheerful 
appearance. How grateful ought I to be to the Author of 
every good, who, in this dear country, follows me with the 
same loving kindness and tender mercy, with which he 
followed me in the dear country, I have left. The numer- 
ous friends, with whom I occasionally sojourn, are as 
anxious to detain me with them, and lament the necessity 
of my departure, precisely as did my American friends ; 
their hearts swell with transport, while I simply declare 
the gospel of the grace of God, and they reiterate their ex- 
pressions of admiration of the gracious words, which God 
enables me to utter, in like manner as did the good Glou- 
cesterian Elder, Mr. Warner, on my first visit to that 
place. We mingle our supplications and addresses our 
thanksgiving and our praises, and our hearts burn within 
us, while we converse of the goodness of our God, and the 
gracious purposes of redeeming love. Surely it would be 
ill judged, if not cruel, in such circumstances, to dash the 
cup of felicity from the lips of these humble dependents 
upon the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, because perhaps 
they do not see to the end of the divine purposes. I never 
will preach any thing but the gospel of God our Saviour, 
any where ; but I will leave those dear people to draw 
their conclusions, and, in the interim, I will feed them with 
the sincere milk of the word, that they may grow thereby. 
The inhabitants of this place (Falmouth) are a very 
friendly religious people. May God grant them peace, 
and give them abundant consolation in believing. The 
people every where hear with American attention. 
Clergymen, wherever I sojourn, are generally my hosts. 
Gospel unadulterated gospel is pleasant to the believing 
soul ; I content myself with showing that man is lost by 
sin; that the law is the ministration of death; that the 
gospel is a divine declaration of life, by Jesus Christ, to 
every creature. Yes, I will continue to preach the gospel 
freely to every creature. I will endeavor to point out its 
glories, and the many advantages attendant on believing 
the divine report. This, by the grace of God, shall still be 
the business of my life. Many clergymen attend me in 
my progress; no less than seven have been among my audi- 
ence at one time ; and on my descending from the pulpit, 
they usually take my hand, and devoutly thank me for 
bearing so good a testimony for Jesus Christ; for speaking 
so well of the Redeemer, adding, that it is a pity I should 



Wm LIFE OF REV* JOHff MXTRRATT* 

do any thing but preach. Numbers flock around me ; and, 
in fact, were I an angel descended from above, I could not 
be followed with more uniform attention.' 

London is two hundred and twenty miles from Falmouth* 
The preacher did not reach that metropolis until the 16th 
of March, and his time was most delightfully passed in the 
service of God the Saviour. Upon one occasion, his en- 
trance into one spacious place of worship was hailed by the 
musical choir devoutly chanting : 

' Blow ye the trumpet, blow 

The gladly solemn sound, 

Let all the nations know, 

To earth's remotest bound, 
The year of Jubilee is come, 
Return, ye ransomed sinners home. ; 

Yet, even in this short visit to his native island, the pro- 
mulgator went through evil as well as good report. We 
subjoin a specimen of each. A gentleman of Falmouth, 
writing to his friend in Tregony, thus expresses himself : 

Mr. Murray will shortly be in your town; we have at- 
tended upon him here with inexpressible delight; three such 
sermons as he has delivered, my ears never before heard; 
such a preacher never before appeared in this town. I am 
convinced his ideas are all his own ; I never heard any thing 
like them; his mind seems clearly informed, and his heart 
very much warmed by the love of God. 5 But the following 
advertisement appeared in a London paper: 

c Mr. Murray is an American, the most popular preach- 
er in the United States. In the conclusion of one of his 
sermons, preached on that continent he endeavored to 
enforce with all the powers of eloquence, the necessity of 
establishing in those States the same Olympic games, which 
were for many ages esatblished among the Grecians. 5 But 
this was not all; it was storied, that he had left America in 
consequence of a criminal prosecution. 

Arriving at London, he was once more enriched by the 
maternal benediction. c He found his venerable parent in 
the enjoyment of a fine green old age, and again she re- 
joiced in the presence of her son. In London, and at 
Hamstead, in the meeting-house once occupied by Mr. 
Whitefield, he delivered his message of peace. Patronized 
in the city of London, by an opulent family, who cherished 
him as a son, he was strongly solicited once more to take 
up his abode in that metropolis; but the providence of God 
had not so decreed, and, after continuing there a short 
time, he departed thence, and journied to Portsmouth 



I#IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



237 



for the purpose of being in readiness to commence his re- 
turn to America. In Portsmouth, he was again a solitary 
stranger; but he had not been more than four hours in that 
celebrated and important emporium, ere he was engaged, 
by a respectable clergyman, to preach a lecture, which had 
been previously announced. In Portsmouth he tarried two 
weeks, preaching frequently. On his first lecture, he was 
solicited by a doctor Miller to accompany him to his habi- 
tation, where he abode until he departed from that town. 
The circle of his acquaintance soon became large, among 
whom he numbered very respectable friends. When the 
clergyman, with whom Mr. Murray associated, during his 
last residence in England, became ascertained of his full 
and comprehensive mews of the magnitude and extent of 
the redeeming plan, although very few adopted his ideas, 
yet they still continued warmly attached to the preacher; 
and the letters they addressed to him, after his return to 
America, which are still in being, would fill a volume. A 
few of the preachers responses are contained in the vol- 
umes of Letters and Sketches of Sermons. 

Mr. Murray proceeded to Cowes, upon the isle of Wight, 
and from thence embarking for America, commenced his 
voyage with a fair wind, which soon changing, they were 
under the necessity of dropping anchor in Portland harbor, 
where they were long wind bound. His passage was un- 
commonly protracted; but, fortunately, the passengers uni- 
ted to give it every charm of which society is susceptible; 
and, when we add, that our late respectable President, the 
Honorable John Adams and Lady were of the number, the 
pleasures of the voyage will be nothing doubted. Books, 
music, and conversation, varied the tedium of the passing 
weeks; nor was the preacher debarred the exercise of his 
sacred avocation; Mr Adams requested he would officiate 
as their teacher, every Sunday, and accordingly the ship's 
company, and the passengers, were, upon this holy day, 
collected round him. His first subject was the third com- 
mandment. They united in their addresses to the throne 
of grace, and in hymning the praises of their God. 

Again reaching the shores of this New World, the voice 
of exoneration and of Freedom bade him welcome; and 
the glad acclamations of joy resounded among his congrat- 
ulating, and most affectionate friends. A summons from 
the Governor to attend a select party at his house, met him 
on the day of his arrival, and every liberal mind partook 
the rational hilarity of the moment. 

The Gloucesterians, determining no more to hazard in- 
vidious persecution, and its train of evils appointed a day, 



233 



LIFE OF RET. JOHN MURRAY* 



the Christmas of 178S, on which to renew, the ordination 
of their pastor; and, after assembling, and effectuating 
their purpose, that they might bestow upon the solemn 
transaction all possible publicity, they procured its inser- 
tion in the Centinel of January 3d, 1789, from which 
paper we transcribe it verbatim: 

c Last Thursday week, Mr. John Murray was ordained 
to the pastoral charge of the Independant Church of 
Christ in Gloucester. After Mr. Murray had prayed, 
and one of the congregation had announced the intention 
of the meeting, and presented him, formally, with a call, 
Mr. Murray replied: 

e Persuaded of the truth of the declaration, made by the 
compilers of the shorter catechism, that God's works of 
providence are his most holy, wise, and powerful, preserv- 
ing and governing all his creatures, and all their actions; 
and having a full conviction that the affairs of the Church 
are, in an especial manner, under his immediate direction; 
and that you my christian friends and brethren, are now 
as formerly, under the directing influence of that divine 
spirit, which, taking of the things of Jesus, and showing 
them unto me, constrained me to become a preacher of 
the everlasting Gospel, and directed you to set me apart, 
and ordain me, to be your Minister I now again, with 
humble gratitude to my divine Master, and grateful affec- 
tion for you, my long tried and faithful christian friends 
and brethren, most cordially accept of this call. 5 

One of the Committee then read the vote of the Church : 
c Resolved, that we, the proprietors of the Independent 
Meeting-House in Gloucester, the members of the church 
and congregation usually attending there for the purpose 
of divine worship, do by virtue of that power invested in 
us by the great High Priest of our profession, the Bishop 
of our souls and the Great and only Head of the Church : 
and according to the institutions of the first churches in 
New-England, and in perfect conformity to the third arti- 
cle of the declaration of rights, in this public manner, 
solemnly elect and ordain, constitute and appoint Mr. 
John Murray, of said Gloucester, clerk, to be our settled 
Minister, Pastor, and teaching Elder; to preach the word 
of God, and to inculcate lessons and instructions of piety, 
religion, and morality, on the congregation; and to do, 
perform and discharge all the duties and offices, which of 
right belong to any other minister of the Gospel, or pub- 
lic teacher of Piety, Religion, and Morality; and it is 
hereby intended, and understood, that the authority and 
rights hereby given to the said Mr. John Murray, to bo 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MtTRRATT. 



our settled, ordained Minister, and public teacher, are to 
romain in full force, so long as he shall continue to preach 
the word of God, and dispense instructions of piety ^reli- 
gion and morality, conformable to our opinions and no 
longer. 5 

< The Committee then solemnly presented him the 
Bible, saying on its presentation: c Dear sir, We present 
you these sacred scriptures as a solemn seal of your ordi- 
nation to the ministry of the New Testament; and the sole 
directory of your faith and practice. 5 His acceptance 
was affecting : as what comes from the heart reaches the 
heart. 

6 With my full soul I thank our merciful God, for this 
inestimable gift. With grateful transport I press it to my 
bosom; I receive it as the copy of my Father's Will, 
as the deed of an incorruptible inheritance: as the uner- 
ring guide to my feet, and lanthorn to my paths. Dear, 
precious treasure, thou hast been my constant support in 
every trying hour, and a never failing source of true con- 
solation. I thank you, most sincerely do I thank you, for 
this confirming seal, this sure directory; and I pray that 
the spirit, which dictated these sacred pages, may enable 
me to make the best use thereof. 5 A sermon by Mr. 
Murray, from Luke v. 2, succeeded, The harvest is 
great, but the laborers are few, &c. &c. 

( The solemnity, attention, and christian demeanor, that 
attended the whole transaction of the ordination, and every 
other occurrence of the day, gave universal satisfaction to 
a numerous audience. 5 • 

Days of tranquillity now succeeded; weeks, months, 
nay years rolled on, and harmony, unbroken harmony, 
presided. Religion shed her balmy influence, her mind 
irradiating, passion-subduing consolations; and we were 
ready to say, stability dwelleth even in our times. But 
alas ! we too soon experienced that c bliss, sublunary bliss , 5 
was not the durable possession of mortality. 

It was in this interval of most pleasant memory, that 
Mr. Murray in the summer of the year 1790, then on a 
visit to his Pennsylvania, Jersey, and New- York connex- 
ions, was by the Universalists convened in the city of 
Philadelphia, associated with Mr. William Eugene Imley, 
to present an address to the immortal Washington, then 
President of the United States. We proceed to transcribe 
the address. 



#40 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

To the President of the United States. 

The Address of the Convention of the Universal Church, 
assembled in Philadelphia, 

' Sir: 

c Permit us in the name of the Society which we repre- 
sent, to concur in the numerous congratulations which 
have been offered to you, since your accession to the gov- 
ernment of the United States. 

' For an account of our principles, we beg leave to re- 
fer you to the pamphlet, which we have now the honor of 
putting into your hands. In this publication it will appear, 
that the peculiar doctrine which we hold is not less friend- 
ly to the order and happiness of society, than it is essen- 
tial to the perfection of the Deity. It is a singular cir- 
cumstance in the history of this doctrine, that it has been 
preached and defended in every age since the first pro- 
mulgation of the Gospel; but we represent the first society, 
professing this doctrine, that have formed themselves into 
an independent church. Posterity will hardly fail to con- 
nect this memorable event, with the auspicious years of 
peace, liberty, and free inquiry in the United States, 
which distinguished the administration of General 
Washington. 

c We join, thus publicly, with our affectionate fellow 
citizens, in thanks to Almighty God, for the last of his 
numerous signal acts of goodness to our country, in pre- 
serving your valuable life, in a late dangerous indisposi- 
tion, and w^3 assure you, Sir that duty will not prompt us, 
more than affection, to pray that you may long continue 
the support and ornament of our country, and that you 
may hereafter fill a higher station, and enjoy the greater 
reward of being a king and priest to our God. 

c Signed in behalf, and by order of the convention. 

c John Murray 
' William Eugene Imley. 



President's Reply 

( To the Convention of the Universal Church, lately as- 
sembled in Philadelphia. 

c Gentlemen: 
c I thank you, cordially, for the congratulations, which 
you offer on my apointment to the office I have the honor 
to hold in the government of the United States. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



241 



* It gives me the most sensible pleasure to find, that, in 
our nation, however different are the sentiments of citizens 
on religious doctrines, they generally concur in one thing: 
for their political professions, and practices, are almost 
universally friendly to the order and happiness of our 
eivil institutions. 1 am also happy in finding this dispo- 
sition particularly evinced by your society. It is moreover 
my earnest desire, that the members of every association, 
or community, throughout the United States, may make 
such use of the auspicious years of peace, liberty, and free 
inquiry with which they are now favored, as they shall 
hereafter find occasion to rejoice for having done. 

c With great satisfaction, I embrace this opportunity, to 
express my acknowledgments for the interest my affec- 
tionate fellow citizens have taken in my recovery from a 
late dangerous indisposition. And I assure you. Gentle- 
men, that in mentioning my obligations for the effusions 
of your benevolent wishes on my behalf, I feel animated 
with new zeal, that my conduct may ever be worthy of 
your good opinion, as well as such as shall, in every re- 
spect, best comport with the character of an intelligent 
and accountable being. 

< G. WASHINGTON.' 

And now, a large number of Mr, Murray's first friends 
in Gloucester were numbered with the dead. He had 
himself again become the head of a family. The times 
were oppressive, and he considered it his duty to provide 
for those of whom he had taken charge. The Bostonians 
were solicitous to hail the preacher, as their settled pastor; 
and it was certain his usefulness would, in the metropolis, 
be more extensive. A partial separation from the Glou- 
eesterians was, by mutual consent, effectuated. It was 
however stipulated, that Mr. Murray should occasionally 
visit them, and that they should be allowed to command 
his presence, upon every distressing, or important exi- 
gence; and the distance being no more than an easy ride 
of a few hours, the adjustment was accomplished without 
much difficulty. Yet did the preacher continue dissatis- 
fied, until the establishment of his successor, in the midst 
of his long loved, and early friends. 

The Rev. Mr. Thomas Jones, a native of Wales, 
whom he had induced, by his representations, to unite 
with him in his American mission, is a gentleman of great 
respectability, of the purest morals, and high in the ranks 
of integrity. Mr. Jones was educated at the college, es- 
tablished by the Countess of Huntington; in which con- 
21 



242 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



nexion he continued, until his attachment to the doctrines 
of the gospel, in their most unlimited import, became the 
signal for his exclusion. The installation of Mr. Jones, 
in Gloucester, gladdened the heart of the philanthropic 
preacher, and his satisfaction was complete. The Glou- 
cesterians love and respect their pastor and, their una- 
nimity is unbroken. They have erected a new and 
elegant house of worship. In Salem also, and in Ports- 
mouth and Charlestown, in New York, and in Philadel- 
phia, commodious buildings are reared to the honor of 
God our Saviour. 

On Wednesday, 23d of October, 1793, the installation 
of Mr. Murray, took place in the Universal Meeting-house 
in Boston; the Presiding Deacon, addressed the church 
and congregation : 

' Brethren, it having pleased the Father of mercies to 
unite in bonds of Christian love and affection the hearts 
of the people, usually worshipping in this place, in the 
choice of Mr. John Murray for their Pastor and Teacher. 
We have accordingly assembled together, at this time 
and place, for the solemn purpose of ratifying here below, 
what we humbly trust is already recorded in heaven. It 
is the duty of all men, at all times, and in all places, 
humbly to implore the direction of the great Head of the 
Church, in all their lawful undertakings. 5 (Then follow- 
ed an appropriate prayer by Mr. Murray.) After which, 
the Deacon demanded of the church and congregation, as 
they had heretofore expressed their desire, that Mr. Mur- 
ray should become their Pastor, and Teacher, if, at this 
time, they continued of that mind, they would publicly con- 
firm it, by vote — which was unanimous. He then requested 
Mr. Murray's answer, which being given in the affirma- 
tive, he concluded his address: c I, therefore, in the name 
and behalf of this church and congregation — supported 
by the constitution of this commonwealth, declare you, 
John Murray, to be the Pastor and Teacher of this First 
Universal Church in Boston; and in their name I present 
unto you the Sacred Volume, as the rule of your faith 
and practice, and as containing a perfect and complete 
revelation of the perfections and will of God: and I fur- 
thermore declare unto you, that so long as you continue to 
preach the gospel, as delineated in these sacred pages, which 
is glad tidings of great joy to every creature, as the purchase 
of the blood of Immanuel, so long you shall be considered 
as our Pastor, and no longer. And now, dearly beloved 
Sir, < I charge thee, therefore, before God and the Lord 
Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



243 



His Appearing, and His Kingdom; to Preach the Word) 
be instant in Season, out of Season; Reprove, Rebuke, 
Exhort, with all long Suffering, and Doctrine, In all 
things showing thyself a Pattern of Good Works: In 
Doctrine showing Uncorruptness, Gravity, Sincerity, 
Sound Speech that cannot be condemned; that he that is 
of the contrary part, may be ashamed, having no Evil 
thing to say of you, A Workman that needeth not to be 
Ashamed, Rightly Dividing the word of Truth.' And 
now, sir, commending you with the Church and Congre- 
gation, over which the Holy Ghost hath made you Over- 
seer, to the care and protection of Him 6 that loved us and 
washed us from our sins in His own blood,' earnestly be- 
seeching Him to build us all up in unity of the One 
Spirit, and in the bond of peace. Now unto Him who 
is abundantly able to perform all these things for us, and 
to present us all faultless before the throne of an Infi- 
nite Majesty, be all honor, glory, dominion and power, 
throughout the ages of time, and a wasteless eternity, 
Amen. 5 

Mr. Murray's reply was animated and replete with af- 
fection 5 after which, a hymn was performed by the choir 
of singers, accompanied by the organ. Next, an excel- 
lent discourse by Mr Murray, from 1 Cor. ix, 14: 'For 
Though I preach the gospel, I have nothing to glor.y of: 
for necessity is laid upon me; ye% woe is unto me if I preach 
not the Gospel.' A collection for the distressed inhabit- 
ants of Philadelphia succeeded the sermon, and an an- 
them suited to the solemnities of the occasion was most 
admirably chanted. The whole was conducted with strict 
decorum, to the satisfaction of a very numerous, respect- 
able, and attentive audience. 

Perhaps no congregation were ever more unanimous, 
and more perfectly satisfied with the pastor of their elec- 
tion, than were the people worshipping in the Church in 
Bennet-Street ; and perhaps no minister was ever more 
unfeignedly attached to the people of his charge, than 
was the long-wandering preacher. Both the minister and 
congregation might truly be said to worship the Most 
High in the beauty of holiness. The ordinance of the 
Lord's Supper was administered agreeably to their ideas 
of its genuine import. Parents brought their children in- 
to the great congregation, standing in the broad aisle, in 
the presence of the worshippers of God ; the father re- 
ceived the babe from the hands of the mother, and pre- 
sented it to the servant of God ; who, deriving his author- 
ity for this practice from the example of his Redeemer, 



244 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



who says, c suffer little children to come unto me,' &c. 
&c, pronounced aloud the name of the child, and receiv- 
ed it as a member of the mystical body of him, who is 
the second Adam, the Redeemer of men. How often has 
his paternal heart throbbed with rapture, as he has most 
devoutly repeated, ( We dedicate thee to Him, to whom 
thou properly belongest, to be baptized with his own bap- 
tism, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
the Holy Ghost ; and we pronounce upon thee that bless- 
ing, which He commanded his ministers, Moses, Jlaron, 
and his Sons, to pronounce upon his people, saying. The 
Lord bless thee, and keep thee; The Lord cause His face 
to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; The Lord 
lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'* 

The preacher, however, never surrendered the persua- 
sion, that he was sent out to preach the gospel, and his 
visits to his far distant friends were frequently repeated; 
yet these visits were always made by the assenting voice 
of the society, and he regarded every individual, congrega- 
ted under his directing auspices, as in an essential and sol- 
emn sense, his children. A gentleman, attending in the 
church in Bennet-street, addressing Mr Murray by letter, 
thus observes: ' I was very much pleased at your meeting; 
the orderly, respectable, and serious demeanor of your so- 
ciety; their silent and fixed attention upon^you, penetrated 
me with sentiments of attachment and satisfaction, and I 
forbore not to invoke the providence of God, that no fro- 
ward, or adverse spirit, should interrupt the harmony which 
now so evidently subsists between you. 5 

Yes, it is indeed true, that Mr. Murray considered the 
interest of the people of his charge as his own. Most 
fondly did he cherish, and perseveringly did he seek, by 
every possible means, to advance their reputation. He 
sympathized with the afflicted, and largely partook their 
sorrows ; while, so often as the course of events brought 
joy to their bosoms, his eye beamed gladness, and his 
tongue exulted to dwell upon facts, which illumined the 
hours of his protracted pilgrimage. His voice, at the bed 
of death, was the herald of consolation. Are there not 
uncounted numbers, still passing on, in this vale of tears, 
who, while attending upon their expiring relatives, have 
witnessed the divine effects emanating from the luminous 
understanding of the preacher, and lighting up a blissful 
smile of anticipated felicity, amid the agonies of dissolving 
nature. To the aged he delighted to administer consola- 
tion; his presence gave a face of cheerfulness to those 
social hours, which the numerous classes* with whom he 
* Note— See page 319. 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY. 



245 



mingled, were wont to appropriate to enjoyment. Chil- 
dren lisped with infantile transport the name of the phi- 
lanthropic preacher, and they were even eloquent in ex- 
pressions of unfeigned attachment. The pleasures of 
young people, if under the dominion of innocence, were 
uniformly sanctioned by their preacher; and his appear- 
ance in well-regulated circles of hilarity, so far from 
clouding, was always considered as the harbinger of high- 
wrought entertainment. If we except a single instance, 
wo do not know, that, through a series of revolving years, 
the harmony subsisting between the minister and his con- 
gregation, suffered either interruption or diminution 
This instance originated in political pertinacity. Party 
spirit occasionally ran very high; and federal and demo- 
cratic leaders were among the adherents of Mr. Murray. 
A July Oration was to be delivered; much invidious dis-* 
quisition was afloat; but it is fruitless to delineate; suffice 
it to say, that this oration, and its consequences, were 
pregnant with anguish to an oft-stricken heart; but bless- 
ed be God, the threatening aspect of affairs, which seem- 
ed to gather darkness, was soon dispersed, and the sun of 
righteousness seemed to break forth, with renewed splen- 
dor. Nor is it wonderful, that transient animosities exist- 
ed; it is rather astonishing they were not more frequent. 
It was truly affecting, it was beautiful, and eminently 
consolatory, to behold persons of the warmest feelings^ 
and strongest prejudices, depositing every dissenting, ev- 
ery foreign sentiment, at the foot of the cross, meeting, 
and mingling souls, and emphatically, although tacitty, 
saying to every minor consideration, 'Tarry ye here, 
while we go up to worship. 5 

Too soon have the years of felicity fled away. They 
rise to view like the vision of some blissful era, which we 
have imagined, not realized. Suddenly we were aroused 
from our dream of security; the torpid hand of palsy 
blighted our dearest hopes; the Preacher, the Head, the 
Husband, the Father, was in a moment precipitated from 
a state of high health* and prostrated beneath the tremen- 
dous stroke of the fell destroyer. 



21* 



246 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Hecord continued from October, 1809, to September, 181 5 ? 

including the closing scene. 

Portentously the dense, dark cloud arose ; 

Long was the night, surcharged with clustering woes; 

But, blest Religion, robed in spotless white, 

With torch of faith, pointing to realms of light, 

Marched splendid on 5 wide o'er the brightening way, 

Leading the saint to never-ending day. 

It was upon the nineteenth day of October, one thou- 
sand eight hundred and nine, that the fata] blow was giv- 
en to a life so valuable, so greatly endeared, so truly pre- 
cious; but, although the corporeal powers of the long 
active preacher became so far useless, as to render him as 
helpless as a new-born babe; although he was indeed a 
complete cripple, yet the saint still lingered; was still de- 
tained by the all-wise decree of the Most High, a prisoner 
in his clay-built tenement, nor did his complete beatifica- 
tion take place until the Sabbath morning of September 
3d, lacking only a few days of six complete years. Yet 
was his patience, so far as we have known, unexampled. 
No murmur against the inflictions of Heaven escaped his 
lips; praises of his paternal Creator were still found upon 
his tongue, and the goodness of his God continued his en- 
during theme. Unwavering in his testimony, he repeat- 
edly, and most devoutly, said : c No man on earth is under 
so many obligations to Almighty God as myself; yes, I 
will adore the great source of Being so long as I shall ex- 
ist, and every faculty of my soul shall bless my redeeming 
Creator. 5 Yet, it is true, that when the once cheerful 
sabbath bells vibrated upon his ear, he would frequently 
lift towards heaven a humid eye, and mournfully articu- 
late: 'Alas! alas! it is not with me as heretofore, when 
I could hear the tribes devoutly say, c Up, Israel, ta the 
temple haste, and keep this festal day:' Soon, however, 
his mind was hushed to peace, by calm and firm confi- 
dence in his God, and he would add — c Well, well, when 
I awake in thy likeness, I shall be satisfied. We are asleep 
in the present state; we are asleep in the likeness of the 
earthy man; all our uneasy sensations are unpleasant 
dreams. Pleasures, derived from mere terrestrial enjoy- 
ments, detached from intellect, are also dreams, and, like 
the baseless fabric of a vision shall not leave a wreck be- 
hmd. But if my life have been a continued sleep, and 
the greater part of my pains, and pleasures, dreams; yet, 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 24? 

while this deep sleep has been upon me, the Almighty hath 
instructed me; yes, blessed be His name, the roof of His 
mouth is as the best wine, which goeth down sweetly, causing 
the lips of those who are asleep to speak. O! for more of 
this best loine, that my lips may show forth his praise, that 
I may drink and forget all sorrow.' 

Thus was the tenor of his mind generally acquiescent, 
and his impatience to te gone was frequently subdued, by 
an operative conviction of the sovereign wisdom, as well 
as paternal love of Deity. His bible was his constant 
companion. Seated by his affectionate assistant, in his 
easy chair, and the book of God opened before him, the 
man of patience, during six succeeding years, passed the 
long summer mornings from the sun's early beams, in exam- 
ining and re-examining the will of his august Father. 
He had, through a long life, been conversant with a va- 
riety of English authors. Poets, dramatic writers, essay- 
ists, and historians, were familiar to him; he took great 
delight in perusing them; but, travelling through those 
multiplied pages, might be termed his excursions, while 
the sacred volume was his intellectual home. JMany 
hours in every day were devoted to the attentive perusal 
of the scriptures, and yet his sentiments were unvaried; 
not a single feature of the system, he had so long advoca- 
ted, was changed. 

Mr. Murray was fond of calling himself the Lord's 
prisoner; and he would add, I am, by consequence, a 
prisoner of hope. During his confinement many respect- 
able gentlemen, clergymen in Boston, visited him. One or 
two repeated their visits, and they apparently regarded the 
now white-haired servant of God with kindness and respect. 
One clergyman questioned him respecting his then pres- 
ent views, wishing to be ascertained if his faith were still 
m exercise, if he were willing to depart, c O yes, yes, yes,' 
exclaimed the long-illumined christian, c the glorious mani- 
festations of divine love still brighten upon me. Right 
precious to my soul are the promises, the oath of Jeho- 
vah; and, sir, so far from shrinking from my approach- 
ing change, my only struggle is for patience to abide, un- 
til the time appointed for my emancipation. I would cul- 
tivate a humble, child-like resignation; but hope deferred, 
doth indeed too often make the heart sick. 5 Another gen- 
tleman congratulated him on his apparent convalescence. — 
'Oh ! sir, 5 he returned, 'the voice of gladness suits not my 
present feelings; it is, as if, when I believed, I was voyag- 
ing to my native shores, where health, happiness, anil 
peace awaited me, borne onwards by gales the most pro- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY". 



pitious, and supposing myself almost in the moment of 
Obtaining the long desired haven , when suddenly driven 
back by some adverse circumstance, instead of being 
soothed by condolence, I am pierced to the soul by the dis- 
cordant sounds of felicitations.' Yet, we repeat, the re- 
vered teacher was in general astonishingly patient, resign- 
ed, and even cheerful. He was frequently heard to say, 
that he had experienced, in the course of his confinement, 
more of the abundant goodness of his God, than through 
the whole of his preceding life; and those, most conver- 
sant with him, could not forbear observing, that the pro- 
tracted period which would in prospect have risen to the 
eye with a most melancholy, if not terrific aspect, taken 
as a whole, exhibited the saint more equal, calm, and dig- 
nified, than any other six years of his existence. A re- 
spectable gentleman, not of his persuasion, but candid 
and benign, remarked, that his character was elevated to 
no common height; that his uncomplaining endurance of 
suffering, and the unwavering steadfastness of his faith, 
had stamped his testimony with the seal of integrity, and 
gave that confirmation to his confidence in his own views 
of sacred writ, which could not fail of rejoicing the hearts 
of his adherents. 

The chamber of adversity was occasionally illuminec. 
by the presence of a few fast friends ; and one sympathiz- 
ing, kind-hearted, affectionate brother was so uniform in 
his appearance, with the close of every week, that we 
might almost have designated the day, and the hour of the 
evening, by his approaches. Nor was the demise of his 
teacher the period of his kindness; his countenance, his 
aid, his commisseration, his society, are still loaned to the 
solitary, the bereaved family. Dear faithful man ! May 
the rich blessings of Almighty God rest upon thee and 
thine, until thou hast finished thy mortal career, and may- 
est thou, in the regions of blessedness, renew, with thy be- 
loved teacher, that friendship which, while tenanted in 
clay, thou hast so well known to appreciate.^ 

To three other gentlemen, devoted adherents to the la- 
mented deceased, warm acknowledgments are, also, most 
righteously due. Their kind, and still continued atten- 
tions, are gratifying proof of their attachment to him, who 
was so dear to them, and gratitude hath, with mournful 
alacrity, reared her altars in the bosoms of the widow, and 
the fatherless. 

Some strange occurrences were noted, which filled the 
heart of the venerable man of God with sorrow, unutter 
able sorrow. Every thing seemed to point homeward to 



lilFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



the sky, and upon Lord's day morning, August twenty- 
seventh, one thousand eight hundred and fifteen, at four 
o'clock, an especial summons was despatched by the Most 
High, to recall his long-tried servant; but alas! we did not 
recognize the messenger; we rather believed, that the cir- 
cumstances, which marked the acknowledged change, 
would look with a friendly aspect upon the health of the 
beloved man, during the succeeding autumn and winter; 
but the honored sufferer himself, apparently better in- 
formed, anticipatingly observed — c Who knows, perhaps 
the liberating hour is at hand; 3 and his feelings were al- 
ways elated or depressed, in exact proportion as the mo- 
ment of his departure seemed to advance or precede. The 
progress of the new disease was astonishingly rapid. A 
physician was summoned, who permitted the indulgence 
of hope. On Tuesday, 29th, his complaints evidently 
abated, insomuch, that while the features of his strongly 
marked face expressed the deepest mortification, he trem- 
ulously exclaimed, c Am I then once more thrown back, 
the melancholy subject of alternate hope and fear?' On 
Wednesday, every symptom increased, he obtained little 
rest, and hope manifestly triumphed in his bosom. Anoth- 
er physician was called in, whose doubtful answers to 
proposed questions created much alarm. He seemed to 
consider nature as surrendering her offices. In the course 
of Thursday, 31st, he repeatedly and earnestly said, ' I 
cannot be sufficiently thankful to God, my Saviour, that 
I suffer no pain, either of body or mind.' To a young 
and tenderly interested friend, he smilingly observed, 6 I 
am hastening through the valley of the shadow of death; 
I am about to quit this distempered state; yet a little mo- 
ment and I shall jbe received into the city of the living 
God, with the innumerable company of the apostles, and 
spirits of just men made perfect, and I shall continue for- 
ever in the presence of my divine Master.' 

His family solicited his blessing. c You are blessed,' 
he replied, c you are blessed with all spiritual blessings in 
Christ Jesus; and, remember,' he added, fixing his dying 
eyes upon them, 'remember, that, however, tried in this 
world, there is another and a better state of things; and 
that, although pierced in this vale of tears by the arrows 
of unkindness and ingratitude, there is One who loveth 
you, with an everlasting love, and who will never leave 
you nor forsake you.' 

On Friday morning, September 1st, some expressions 
gave positive proof of his sanity; but as the day advanced, 
his derangement was supposed unquestionable, and from 



250 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



this hour, until Saturday evening, a little after sunset, he 
continued, with few intervals, incoherently repeating the 
most consolatory passages in the book of God. His right 
hand was constantly in motion, and when anyone ap- 
proached, whatever might be the question, the answer 
was ready. c To Him, 5 said the expiring christian, 
c shall the gathering of the people be, and His rest shall be 
glorious, glorious, glorious. 1 am blessed with all spiritual 
blessings, in Christ Jesus. Nor I alone, Christ Jesus 
hath tasted death for every man,' &c. &c. These God 
honoring, man-restoring truths, were audibly articulated, 
while voice and strength continued; and when speaking 
only in a whisper, to the listening ear applied to his moving 
lips, it was ascertained that the same consolatory assurances 
still dwelt upon his tongue. Was this delirium? or, if it 
were, was it not a delirium irradiated by the powerful in- 
fluence of redeeming love? Did not the luminous truths, 
upon which the noble, the capacious mind, had so long re- 
posed, beam refulgent over the scattering fragments, then 
dissolving, which had for a term of more than seventy 
years, embodied the immortal tenant? 

Almost immediately after sunset, on Saturday evening, 
he ceased to speak; his right hand no longer waved, and he 
continued in the same position, in which the enduring kind- 
ness of his faithful assistant had placed him, until six o'clock, 
Lord's-day morning, September third, one thousand eight 
hundred and fifteen; when, without a sigh, or a struggle, or 
a single distortion of countenance, he expired. His long 
imprisoned spirit escaped to the God who gave it. 

It did not appear, through the whole of Friday and Sat- 
urday, that he suffered the least pain except when an at- 
tempt was made to move him. His breath grew shorter, 
and shorter like the sweet sleep of a tired infant, until it 
could no more be distinguished. He departed this life in 
the seventy-fifth year of his age. 

Sacred be the scene which immediately succeeded. We 
do not wish — we attempt not to lift the veil; but we exult 
in the conviction, that we shall ere long, follow the eman- 
cipated spirit to the abodes of blessedness. 

The interment could be deferred only until Monday 
evening, September 4th. The ebbing attachment of cer- 
tain individuals now reverted to its pristine channel. 
Funeral honors were promtly and unanimously decreed. 
The children of the society, distinguished by a badge of 
mourning, preceded the body; along solemn, well ordered 
and respectable procession followed the train of mourners; 
private carnages were added to those appointed by the 



LIFE OF REV» JOHN MURRAY, 251 

society ; the body was deposited upon stands in the aisle 
of the church ; the pulpit and galleries were hung with 
black; religious exercises were performed; when it was 
entombed with the ashes of those to whom he had been 
fondly attached. Every thing, which immediately referred 
to the sacred, the individual remains of the deceased, was 
liberally provided by the religious adherents of the pro- 
mulgator, and the arrears which would have been due to 
the family, had the vote of* March, 1815, been similar*' to 
that of March 1814, were paid to a single farthing. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Conclusion. . 
' And now the feverish dream of life is o'er.' 

Had we talents, we would exhibit a portrait of the 
deceased: But, besides, that we feel ourselves inadequate 
to a task so arduous, we are not perfectly convinced of 
Its propriety. Friendship might be too warm, and admi- 
ration too lavish. His colleague has been his eulogist, 
and no friend of the deceased will pronounce the 
panegyric an exaggeration. Perhaps it does not contain 
a more just, or a more happy paragraph than the follow- 
ing : ( Without a second to aid him, you saw him pass 
along these shores from Maryland to New Hampshire, 
like the lonely Pelican of the wilderness, publishing as 
with the voice of an angel, the tidings of everlasting life to 
the whole world, in the name, and through the mission of 
our Lord Jesus Christ. 3 

It has been said that persuasion dwelt upon the lips of 
our philanthropist. The pages of recollection furnish 
many instances of his powerful, and soul-subduing elo- 
quence. We are impelled to select, from the fading 
record, two facts which are well authenticated: — 

A London mob had assembled in great force, with the 
most destructive and murderous designs. Time-honored 
edifices were to be demolished, and the weapons of death to 
be pointed at the most valuable lives. This scene of riot was 
exhibited during the troubles relative to Mr. Wilkes; all was 
tumult and tremendous uproar; an attempt at reasoning 
was stifled by outrageous clamor; the efforts of peace 
officers were fruitless, and the military was on the point 
of being called into action, when Mr. Murray, returning 



25$ LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

from some religious meeting to his peaceful home, found 
himself in the midst of the infuriated rioters, and instantly 
mounting a stand, which opportunely presented, he har- 
rangued the lawless multitude ; and by soothing their 
prejudices, addressing their passions, and pointing out the 
only legitimate steps for the purpose of obtaining redress, 
he first obtained silence, next softened and ameliorated 
their passions, and finally dispersed without mischief a most 
enraged populace. A nobleman, seizing him by the hand, 
impressively said, c Young man, I thank you; I am ignorant 
of your name, but I bear testimony to your wonderful abili- 
ties. By your exertions, much blood and treasure have this 
night been saved.' 

The second instance which we present is nearer home. 
A motion was made in the legislature of a sister state, then 
province, to raise a sum of money for the relief of the Bos- 
tonians, suffering from the severe decrees of a British min- 
istry. Mr. Murray attended the debates; the motion was 
seconded, and supported, with spirit and judgment, and it 
was opposed with some violence, and little reason. It was 
put to vote, and lost by a majority of twelve persons; Mr. 
Murray's particular adherents voting against it. It hap- 
pened he was, on that day to dine at the house of a Doctor 

B , one of the triumphant majority, with several 

gentlemen on the same side of the question, when his pow- 
erful animadversions, and reasoning upon the subject, 
wrought so great a revolution, as to produce a reconsidera- 
tion of the vote, and the motion for succoring the Bostoni- 
ans, passed by a majority of nine persons. 

Mr. Murray has been accused of licentious opinions and 
practices. His letters to his friends would fill many vol- 
umes; addressed to the private ear of those he best loved, 
they ought to decide upon his opinions; and, for his life, 
perhaps no man of abilities so stinted was ever a greater 
blessing to mankind. We indulge ourselves with giving 
one letter, written to the son of a most intimate friend: — 

c You are placed at school for two purposes; the im- 
provement of your understanding, and the formation of vir- 
tuous principles. It cannot be doubted that the improve- 
ment of the heart is esteemed by those to whom you are 
most dear, beyond the most cultivated intellect. It is your 
business to unite these estimable objects, your heart and 
understanding should be emulous in pursuit of excellence. 
Ethics, improved and elevated by the christian religion, be- 
come the guides to real wisdom and solid happiness; these 
they could never have attained in the schools of heathen 
philosophy. It is not expected that you should thus early 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



253 



be engaged in the profound disquisitions of theology. The 
plain doctrines of the religion, which it is hoped you will 
profess, have been explained to you; but the principal bu- 
siness is to open your heart for the reception of those sen- 
timents and principles, which will conduce to the direction 
of your actions, in the employments and engagements of 
your subsequent life. Permit me, however, to remind you 
of the necessity of reading the scriptures, that is, of drinking 
the sacred waters at the fountain head. But, to read the 
scriptures with advantage, judgment is necessary, and as 
your judgment is not yet matured, you must submit to the 
direction of your instructers. The plainest, and most per- 
spicuous passages will, for the present, best deserve and re- 
ward your attention. The historical parts of the Old Tes- 
tament will entertain you, if you consider them only in a 
classical point of view, as valuable passages of ancient his- 
tory; but I would call your attention more immediately to 
the books which are most replete with moral instruction, 
such as the Proverbs of Solomon, the Wisdom of the Son 
of Sirach, and the admirable book entitled, Ecclesiasticus. 
I trust the time will come, when the prophecies will most 
pleasingly instruct you; at present you will peruse them 
for the poetical beauties, which they confessedly ^display. 
Isaiah abounds with fine passages of this description, and 
Jeremiah is by no means deficient in this line. You have 
bo doubt read Pope's Messiah, and could not but have 
observed, that its most pleasing imagery is selected from 
Isaiah. If you read the Old Testament with a taste for ita 
beauties, you will accomplish two important purposes; you 
will acquire a knowledge of the Holy Bible, which is your 
duty, and you will improve your taste and judgment. The 
New Testament requires the attention of every one, who 
professes himself a christian. You must read it with that 
immility, which becomes a finite being, but more particular- 
ly a young person; you will do well to pay especial at- 
tention to the sermon on the Mount, and to that admirable 
epitome of all moral philosophy, the *rule of doing to 

OTHERS, AS WE WOULD THEY SHOULD DO UNTO US. If VOU 

pay due obedience to this precept, you will never hesitate 
in determining what part you are, upon every occasion, to 
act. It is proper you should familiarize your mind to the 
language of scripture; although you may not fully com- 
prehend the sacred writings, you will thus treasure up in 
your memory many useful passages, which may become in 
future highly consolatory. An early acquaintance with the 
letter of the old and new tesraments, has been found sub- 
stantial props through lengthening years; but all this, my 



25*4 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

dear young friend, will avail but little, unless you add 
thereto prayer and praise. Make it therefore a rule, never 
to be violated, to pray night and morning. The Redeemer, 
while clothed in humanity, earnestly and fervently address- 
ed the Deity; forget not, therefore, to offer your piivate 
addresses to the Father of your spirit, at retiring to rest, 
and with the early dawn. Your age is the age of inadver- 
tance; you enjoy health, and you are a stranger to the 
cares of the world. Cheerfulness does indeed become you, 
but let me pray you to consider the value of time, and the 
importance of appropriating it to wisdom. Consider your 
parents; the anxiety they experience upon your account; 
most ardently do they desire your improvement. Laudably 
ambitious, they are solicitous that you should be emi- 
nent, in whatever profession or employment you may be 
destined to engage. To see you contemptible, would fill 
them with the extreme of anguish; and, trust me, nothing 
will rescue you from contempt, but individual merit, a good 
disposition, adorned by literature, and embellished by the 
lighter accomplishments, and especially elevated by Chris- 
tianity. Your parents have labored indefatigably, to pro- 
mote you; but it remains with yourself to give success to 
their endeavors. The mind is not like a vessel, into which 
we may pour any good quality, whatever the director may 
choose; it is rather like a plant, which, by the operation of 
its own internal powers, imbibes the nutriment afforded by 
the earth. I repeat; it is certain, that instructers can serve 
you only in conjunction with your own efforts. Let me 
then entreat you to exert yourself, if you have any regard 
for those parents, whose happiness so much depends upon 
your conduct; if you have any regard for your own honor, 
felicity, and prosperity ; if you hope to be useful, and res- 
pected in society. 

c Always consider me as your friend and servant, 
JOHN MURRAY.' 
If the testimony of respectable contemporaries; of men 
who disdained flattery, and whose judgment was unques- 
tionable; who delighted to address our departed friend in 
the strains of panegyric — if these vouchers were permitted 
to decide in his favor, we could produce a cloud of witness- 
es. We content ourselves with a few extracts, from the 
many letters which might be produced. General Greene 
thus writes: £ You may remember, I promised you a letter 
at the close of every campaign. Had I the tongue of a 
Murray to proclaim, or the pen of a Robertson to record, 
the occurrences of this campaign should be delineated to 
the honor of America. The Monmouth battle, and the ac- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



255 



tion upon Rhode-Island, were no small triumphs to us, who 
had so often been necessitated to turn our backs. To be- 
hold our fellows, chasing the British off the field of battle, 
afforded a pleasure, which you can better conceive, than I 
describe, if, my dear Murray, I had before been an unbe- 
liever, I have had sufficient evidence of the intervention of 
Divine Providence, to reclaim me from infidelity: my 
heart, I do assure you, overflows with gratitude to Him, 
whose arm is mightier than all the Princes of the earth. 
In the midst of difficulties, and I have encountered many, 
my heart reverts to you; were you addressing me from the 
pulpit, you could convince me that considering the world 
to which I am hastening, I have not the least cause of com- 
plaint — -I sigh for an opportunity of listening to the music 
of your voice. 

c Are you and the priests upon any better terms? Or 
are they as mad with you as ever? Well, go on, and pros- 
per, and may God bless you to the end of the chapter.' 
Again, General Greene writes: c It is, my dear sir, a long 
time since you and I have had a friendly meeting. God only 
knows when we shall be thus blest* It is impossible for me 
to give you an adequate idea of the distress of the once 
happy people of New Jersey; I know your fancy is lively, 
and your genius fertile; give your faculties full scope, in 
drawing a picture, and it will still fall far short of the origi- 
nal. How greatly would you be pained were you present; 
you who sympathize with every thing in distress, and feel 
and share the miseries of all around you. Oh, my dear 
friend, may God preserve you from such complicated dis- 
tress. Soon after you left me upon Long Island, I was 
seized with a violent fit of sickness; my restoration was un- 
expected, but my health is now confirmed. Oh what would 
I give for a few hours uninterrupted conversation with our 
dear Murray. I beseech you to visit Mrs. Greene in Coven- 
try. 5 One more extract from the letters of General Greene 
shall suffice. c Once more, on the close of the campaign, I 
am to announce to my very dear friend, that I am still an 
inhabitant of this globe. We have had a hard and bloody 
campaign, yet we ought rather to dwell upon the mercies 
we have received, than to repine because they are not great- 
er. But man is a thankless creature : yet you, dear Murray, 
know, that the mercies of God are happily proportioned to 
our weakness. Retired to w inter quarters, the social pas- 
sions once more kindled into life. Love and friendship 
triumph over the heart, and the sweet pleasure of domestic 
happiness, call to remembrance my once happy circle of 
friends, in which you, my dear Sir, appear in the first rank 



me 



LIFE OP REV* JOHN MURRAY* 



My friendship for you is indeed of the warmest description* 
My attachment was not hastily formed, and it will not easily 
be relinquished. I early admired your talents; your mor- 
als have earned my esteem; and neither distance nor cir- 
cumstances will diminish my affection. 5 

The subjoined extracts are from letters written by a 
gentleman of high respectability, in the mercantile, litera- 
ry, and christian world. The first extract is from a letter, 
soliciting a visit from the preacher. 

c The grand the glorious expedition, in which you are 
engaged, to disseminate truth, and knowledge; the assur- 
ances we can give you how little is known here, and how 
eagerly it is wished, that the ways of God to man should be 
made manifest, will, I trust induce you to make an exer- 
tion in our behalf. My ardent prayer is for your life, and 
health. The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are 
few; yet I trust in God, that the beams of light will irradi- 
ate this benighted world, and that he will accelerate that 
eternal day, when the Son shall give up the kingdom to- 
the Father, and God shall be all in all.' 

You solicit me to write; my writing can afford you no 
novelty, for what intellectual ground is there that you have 
not trod or that I can mark out, which you have not be- 
fore observed. I am wearied with reiterated reflection, 
and I pant for that sky, where I may range without con- 
finement. The simple truths of the gospel please me much. 
I rest in confidence that Christ died for me, rose again for 
my justification, and will make me completely blessed; that 
I am essentially united to, and a part of that nature, which 
pervades all space, and a spark of that fire, that shall es- 
cape to heaven, its native seat. I recollect your preach- 
ing with pleasure, and I bless God for the light he has been 
pleased to convey to my mind, through your instrumentali- 
ty; may your labors be blessed with success; but I predict 
the genuine gospel laborers will be but few. Poor man ! 
you must stand singly opposed, without human aid: be 
persuaded that the conflict will be inferior to your strength. 
I really despise the world, for their treatment of you; but 
you know who says, c Be of good cheer I have overcome the 
worldJ What mildness was there in the majesty of the 
person of the Redeemer! He could have been no other 
than the Deity, enrobed in a mantle of flesh. I venerate 
the liberal, the magnanimous principles of your general and 
your colonel; and I love them for their friendship for you, 
and the estimation in which they hold you. It is so rare 
to meet with liberal and enlarged minds, that when I do, 
I exult at the discovery, and my soul leaps to embrace 



L.iXE OF REV. JOHU MURRAY* 



them. Should you have a vacant moment, you will do 
well to fill it, by writing to us your children. 5 

Never my dear Murray, can I forget you, while mem- 
ory holds her seat in this benighted vale. The impres- 
sions are too lasting to be effaced, and so deeply are they 
marked together, that when the ideas of the great redemp- 
tion arise in my mind, those of Relly and Murray, are in- 
seperable therefrom, as the mediums through which sub- 
lime truth beamed upon my soul. I am desirous of antici- 
pating that adult age, you so beautifully describe, when 
knowledge shall be conveyed, not by the obstructed tongue 
or tardy pen, but by intuition. But my dear Sir, you must 
wait till that expected day, before I can tell you how much 
I esteem, how much I love you. Among a number of 
things you have taught me, I reckon it not the least, that 
the disposal of human affairs is in the direction of a Being 
whose operations will always produce the best consequen- 
ces. I, however, find it difficult to suppress the indigna- 
tion I feel at the treatment you receive. What shall cure 
these distempered minds? what shall compose the tumult 
of their frenzy, or rouse their feverish repose? Not the 
skill of an Isaiah, nor the prayers of a Paul ; nothing short 
of the prescription of the grand Physician, who is the Healer 
of the Nations, and the application of that tree, whose 
leaf is for medicine. My wishes for you in this case are 
vain; but I can never appreciate the aspirations of my 
heart; not that you may be exempt from the conflict, but 
that you may conquer, and you will conquer; your re- 
ward is above, secure from the rage of impotent man, and 
the invasion of the grand adversary of human nature.' 

c To be possessed of your confidence and friendship, 
would be flattering to me in the highest degree. My wash- 
es are to deserve both. You do indeed appear to me a chosen 
one an elect soul. Call these expressions extravagant, if 
you please, but they are as far short of what I feel, as lan- 
guage is inadequate to the expressions of the refined taste 
of the mind.' 

c Among the almost innumerable systems, respecting our 
nature, being, and our end, in which the world has been so 
perplexed, and have exposed themselves so variously, none 
claims so fair a title to truth as the one you promulgate. 
But the world have not so liberally attributed goodness to 
Deity. Our benignant religion developes the goodness of 
God in the enlightening sun, the fructifying rain, the 
cheering wine, and the nutritious bread; in short, in a 
thousand million examples, with which nature so liberally 
abounds. Indeed, we should seldom be unhappy, did we 
22* 



258 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



more constantly realize the presence of a redeeming God, 
I admire the candor of your mind, which is ever stepping 
forth, as the advocate of your friends, although I may occa- 
sionally drop from that stand in your friendship, which it 
would be my pride to maintain: it is a persuasion, which I 
can never relinquish, that the wanderings of my heart may 
be reclaimed in an instant. Your letters are under my pil- 
low; I bind them to me as phylacteries, and I attentively 
watch for a moment of leisure, to acknowledge them, 
Murray, should you pass out of time before me, I should 
experience some exquisitely painful sensations. O ! may 
you be for a long, long time to come, invulnerable to the 
shafts of disease; yet why should I wish to turn the dart, 
that will give you passport to a life of bliss and immortality I 
You who agonize at the present state of existence. No, 
let me neither accelerate, nor retard, even by a wish, that 
period of humanity, but invoke our common Father that 
we may be strengthened by the way, and with faith and 
patience quietly wait the expected release. 5 

6 Your letter, My dear Murray, is like a great magazine, 
full of instruction and entertainment. Were I to attempt 
to give it due and just consideration, I should write a vol- 
ume, and probably not succeed at last. You say, and I be- 
lieve it, that we shall be built up again upon a superior 
principle. The world is so involved in the wicked one, 
that I am really glad to find any one willing to allow the 
goodness of God, in any view; it is at least one step to- 
ward a just way of thinking. I pray you to be content 
with your present standing, you are too infirm to visit far 
from home; where you speak, you are heard by many 
strangers, who enter your Capital, whom you know not, 
but who hear and know you; so I think your station is 
clearly pointed out, to which you do well to adhere. I re- 
gret exceedingly, that I cannot attend your expositions of 
the ceremonial Law, in which I understand you are engag- 
ed. Those laws are a deep and rich mine of instruction. 
The scriptures are One, like a great Epic; their action is 
One, the Restoration of a eost nature. The subordi- 
nate parts evidently point to the great Head and captain 
of our salvation. Go on, my dear Sir, and may you be 
the means of bringing many sons to glory. Allow me to 
say, you ought to write more frequently; your diligence 
and activity are well known to me, but it seems incumbent 
upon you to give to the world your explanations of the 
sacred writings. Yes, I repeat, you would do well to be- 
stow some portion of your time to record and elucidate 



LIFE OP REV* JOHU MURRAY. 



many passages which, when you are gone, may speak for 
you. The event of your death, however dreaded, must be 
met by the greater part of your hearers, and, although 
they may have remaining to them the sacred writings, yet 
you are aware, that a preacher is necessary. I have com- 
pared you to some of the general elements of life, whose 
good and salubrious existences are not known, until they 
are lost. I consider you employed in removing the scales 
from the darkened eye, fortifying the timid mind against the 
approaching dissolution of nature, securing it from the blan- 
dishments of delusion and leading it to arm against the 
terrors of calamity and pain. I myself am indebted to you 
in hundreds of instances for light, and most important in- 
formation. I need not repeat my best wishes to you; they 
present themselves to me in full, whenever your memory 
occurs to me. I feel that it is hereafter, when you and I 
are liberated, that I shall derive a part of my happiness 
from the perfection of your friendship. May the least and 
lightest pains infest you here; this is the utmost a mortal 
dare wish, or request. 5 

c Yes, my dear Sir, I am now sensible of the value of ex- 
istence; and the insurance of immortality has become my 
greatest happiness. The time was, when, to my serious 
moments, immortality appeared garbed in horror; many 
a time have I wished I had never been born; but, blessed 
change, I can now perceive that light, which shined in me, 
even then, — although my darkness comprehended it not; but 
blessed be God, my eyes are at length opened. O ! may 
God, all-gracious, watch over you, and preserve you from 
every evil. The Almighty in great mercy hath loaned you 
to a benighted world; may the rich blessing be long con- 
tinued. 5 

c Gratitude, dear and honored Sir, calls upon me to ac- 
knowledge my great obligations for the glorious declara- 
tion of those important truths, of which, until I had the 
pleasure of seeing Mr Murray, I was entirely ignorant 
From that blessed era, I date the commencement of my 
terrestrial felicity. It is to you, as an instrument, I am in- 
debted for a glimpse of the beautiful harmony of the sacred 
writings; I can now behold, with devout admiration, the 
great salvation promised us by the word, by the OiTii of 
Jehovah, in that holy book, which, although possessed by 
many, is neither understood nor valued, except by a few 
elected individuals. I much wish for your continued in- 
struction; and I know you take pleasure in considering it 
your duty to impart your knowledge of the Redeemer to 
the creatures whom he hath purchased with his blood. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRA1. 



Would it were the will of God to give you a permanent 
standing among the circle of my friends, who are so great- 
ly devoted to you; then, dear Sir, would our heaven be 
commenced upon earth, and all would be one continued 
scene of uninterrupted praises and thanksgiving, for the 
great Redemption, wrought out by the death and sufferings 
of our Messed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.' 

c Murray, how greatly you succeed, when engaged upon 
a theme which I emphatically call your own. I love to 
hear you speak upon any subject; but on this, you are, I 
had almost said, divine; your whole soul seems engaged, 
when dwelling upon the Redeemer, and his love to man; 
nothing but the voice of the God who made you, and who 
hath so wonderfully endowed you, can exceed the honied 
accents of your heaven-inspired tongue. Do you wonder 
that I am daily wishing myself among the number of your 
hearers, your happy hearers ! but how contrasted is the life 
of a soldier, to that of the peaceful christian seated at the 
feet of Jesus. 5 

A respectable gentleman, writing, nearly two years since, 
from the city of Philadelphia, and speaking relative to the 
recent publication of the venerable, the now departed saint, 
gratefully says: c These volumes, your Letters and Sketch- 
es, are all I hoped for, wished, or expected; they are much 
more. I bless God, not only for the treasures of wisdom 
committed to his venerable servant, but also that his valua- 
ble life has been preserved to accomplish this work; a pro- 
duction, which will live, and be read with ineffable delight, 
when the rubbish of ages shall have been consigned to ob- 
livion.' 

Should any curiosity exist respecting Mr. Murray's po- 
litical sentiments, it may be sufficient to say, that he was in 
heart an American. America was the country of his 
adoption. He was decidedly and uniformly opposed to the 
oppression of the British ministry, and he would have em- 
braced any upright measures to have procured redress; yet, 
perhaps, he would have been as well pleased, had England 
and America been united upon terms of equality and recip- 
rocal benefit; nor can it be denied, that he was, indubita- 
bly, an Anti-Gallican. In our opinion, a total dereliction 
of country stamps miscreant upon the individual, who har- 
bors feelings so reprehensible. England was the native 
country of the preacher; the virtues flourished in his bo- 
som, among which the amor patriae glowed with no com- 
mon lustre. He frequently amused himself with writing 
in numbers, which, so soon as written, he generally com- 
mitted to the flames. The following inartificial lines, 



IjIFE OF RfiV. JOHtf MURRAY. 



261 



written one hour after he received intelligence of the de- 
mise of the celebrated and meritorious Earl of Chatham, 
may be considered as a correct delineation of his political 
views and wishes. 

Swift on the ear of fancy borne along, 
And safely landed on my native Isle, 
I join the mourning train, assembled there 
And stand unnoticed near the hallow'd corse: 
I mark the empty pageantry of state, 
A pageantry, alas ! not empty here, 
For here are real signs of real wo 5 
All ranks, all orders, mingle in the throng 5 
Some raise the voice in majesty of wo : 
Some silent stand as statues — pale with grief- ■» 
At sight of these, my tears more copious flow. 

Hark — from yon seat a voice assails my ear, 
Than music in its softest strains more sweet. 
'Tis Camden ! favored sage, exalted chief, 
He calls his mourning country to attend, 
As thus he pours the elegiac strain. 

1 From life's low vale where all was calm repose, 
And, taught by heaven, the mind drank classic lore, 
To the tumultuous scenes of busy life, 
This peerless man, in hour of dread dismay, 
By pitying Heaven, in mercy to our land, 
Was summoned forth. He gracious heard, and came, 

Hailed by Britannia's united voice; 
His royal master look'd benignly kind, 
And bade him welcome to his arms, his heart ; 
For howso'er remote their varied spheres, 
Congenial souls, ; t would seem, informed them both. 

No longer view'd as servant, but as friend, 
In all his Sovereign's councils he had part, 
Their hopes and fears, their aims and ends the same. 
The Nation gave her treasures to his care, 
Himself the richest treasure she possess'd; 
And anxious eyes from every rank were raised, 
With serious awe, and steadfast hope to him; 

Nor were their hopes, their expectations vain. 
New life, new views, fresh vigor nerved his arm, 

All that was wrong, his vigilance set right, 



962 



LIFTS OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



And, what was greater far, preserved it so. 

The foes he met (for who from foes is free) 

Were, to the peerless jewel of his worth, 

Like toiling lapidary to the costly gem, 

They made its brightness more conspicuous shine. 

The fawning sycophant oft sought his smile, 
But piercing eye-beams struck the caitiffhlind 5 
The foes to virtue trembled at his nod, 
While her glad sons nocked hovering round their Sire. 
The Merchant watched his eye 3 the sons of Art, 
The swain who turns the glebe, but chiefly he 
On glory bent, who ploughed the watery way, 
Panting to grasp the treasures of the globe, 
He carefully this Pole -Star still observed, 
And safely voyaged, with this star in view. 
How wild alas ! he'll wander now 'tis hid. 

The secrets of all states, blest heaven-taught sage, 

To thy pervading eye were all unveil'd, 

And every dark intrigue was known to thee. 

The Gallic power trembled at thy nod, 

And proud Castalia, cowering, bent to thee. 

In dire suspense the awe-struck Nations stood, 

Nor could predict where next would burst the storm. 

Lo ! as he points, our Castles float along, 
And British thunders roll from shore to shore 5 
The sooty tribes of Afric shrink appall'd, 
And China's crafty sons distrust their skill. 

In this great Legislator's hand, our flag, 
Like that fam'd wand into a serpent chang'd, 
As Hebrew sages sung in days of yore, 
Made every other flag obsequious bow, 
And every Nation own'd or felt his power. 
But, while remotest lands through fear obeyM, 
His grateful Country serv'd with filial love, 
And every son of Albion shared his care. 

Nor did the British garden, blooming round 
Alone engage the heavenly laborer's toil ; 
With watchful eye he viewed those tender shoots, 
Whilome transplanted to Columbia's soil ; 
Those tender lambs he gently led along, 
And to their plaints still bent a parent's ear-.. 



LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



265 



Dear, much loved offspring of this happy Isle, 

With us, sincere, ye mourn the common loss ; 

With us lament the Father and the Friend : 

But, while our bursting hearts deplore his flight 

Perfidious Bourbon ghastly grins his joy 5 

The Gallic Cock now feebly clap3 his wings 

And thinks to hear the Lion roar no more. 

Base, treacherous, cringing, dastard slaves, beware j 

Although our Sun be set to rise no more, 

The moon and stars shall guide the Lion's paw 

To seize thee trembling in thy close retreat. 

Already mark ! he shakes his shaggy mane, 

And growling rises from his murky den 5 

His eye-balls roll with rage — they shoot forth flames j 

He grinds his teeth, and finds them solid still 5 

He tries his paws, and finds his talons strong. 

Our groans have rous'd him 3 see, he sleeps no more 

But still the royal issue of this Isle, 

This highly favored regent of the main, 

Secure may stand, nor fear the Lion's rage. 

What though the Demons of this Land may strive 
To set the gen'rous Lion on her sons, 
The Lion shrinks — so ancient Bards declare — 
Nor will destroy the issue nobly born. 
But those perfidious, who would set him on, 
With ghastly looks, and souls appalPd by fear, 
Too late shall feel the horrors of despair.' 

But it is the Religionist we are solicitous to characterize; 
and although the sentiments of the preacher may be gath- 
ered from his writings, yet, as this volume may come un- 
der the eye of some individuals, who may not possess the 
publication to which we have so often alluded, it may be 
proper, in this place to attempt a brief outline of the most 
prominent features in his creed. 

His full soul believed in one Great and indivisible First 
cause, or origin of all created beings; before this great 
First cause One Eternal now, was, is^ and will be ever pres- 
ent. Every thing which has past, in passing, or shall pass, 
was ordained in His eternal purpose, and actually passed in 
review before Him, ere ever the worlds were formed, or 
countless systems commenced their revolutions. 

The God of our Philanthropist was Omnipotent Om- 
nipresent ; and Omniscient; consequently he performed 



864 



l,IFfi OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



all his will; was, is, and will be, present through all 
space, through time and through eternity. In the prose- 
cution of His plans, myriads of angels, in their various or- 
ders, were by his Omnipotent power commanded into being; 
these cherubim and seraphim, angels and archangels, sur- 
rounded the throne of the Most High. The morning stars 
sang together, and all the hosts of heaven rejoiced. 

But strange as it may appear to our finite understanding 
fell discord with peace-destroying influence, reared his hy- 
dra, his tremendous head. Various conjectures hover round 
this phenomenon. The origin of evil has exercised intel- 
lects the most profound and erudite; but he, who can de- 
velop the arcana of the Almighty, may claim equality with 
his God. It should be our care not to attribute to Deity a 
mode of conduct irreconcileable with rectitude; and to keep 
close to that revelation, which he hath graciously vouch- 
safed to bestow upon us. 

The creation of man succeeded the fall of the angelic na- 
ture. God said, — Let Us make man, &c. &,c. Speaking 
in the plural, with an eye to the complexity of that charac- 
ter He had predetermined to assume, and, as we before ob- 
served, past, present, and future, constituted, the token of 
Deity, one complete whole; and thus were important oc- 
currences garbed in language, suited to the elevation of the 
Godhead. In process of time, this august Creator, was to 
be enrobed in humanity and become the son born; was to 
be exhibited as a holy spirit of consolation, taking of the 
things of Jesus, and exhibiting them to tbe mind, thus speak- 
ing peace. Mr. Murray was at the same time a Unitari- 
an, and a Trinitarian, beholding, constantly beholding 
the trinity in the unity. Let us make man in our image, 
after our own likeness, — Yea, verily, man may be consid- 
ered as made in the image, and after the likeness of his 
Creator. The figure is striking; man is a triune being, 
body, soul, and spirit, yet no individual is considered as 
three, but one man, the Trinity in Unity. The Almighty, 
clad in garments of flesh, became the God-Man, and, 
speaking of Himself as man, he says, my Father is greater 
than me; while, reverting to the divinity, he affirms, the 
Father and He are One. Philip, have I been so long with 
thee, and dost thou say, show me the Father. 1 He who 
hath seen me hath seen the Father.' Was this true, — 
or was Jesus Christ an impostor? In this view the 
scriptures are beautifully consistent. I am God thf. Sav- 
iour: a just God and a Saviour; there is none beside me, 
— This same evangelical prophet exultingly exclaims; Isaiah 
ix, 6: Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, his 
name shaK be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. Such 
were the comprehensive views of Deity, which became 
more and more luminous to the mental eye of the preacher. 

He believed, that the creation of human beings made a 
part of the divine purpose; in which sacred, uncontrollable, 
and irreversible purpose, the whole family of man were 
originally and intimately united to their august Creator, in 
a manner mysterious, and as much beyond our limited 
conception, as the Creator is superior to the creature whom 
He hath formed. 

Adam the first was a figure of Adam the second. Adam 
the first, the prototype; Adam the second, the substance of 
the prototype, the Creator of all Worlds, the Lord from 
Heaven. The sacred scriptures abound with figures of 
this mysterious, this ennobling, this soul-satisfying Union^ 
among which, perhaps, none is more expressive than that 
of the Head and Members constituting one body, of which 
Jesus Christ was the immaculate Head. Hence the pro- 
priety aud necessity, of looking with a single eye to Jesus 
Christ. We are members of the body of Christ, who is the 
head of every man: Should a single member of this mysti- 
cal body be finally lost, the Redeemer must, through eter- 
nity, remain imperfect, 

A Law was given, to the complete obedience of which, 
everlasting life was annexed; but no individual member 
was ever able to fulfil this Law; it was only the head and 
members collectively in their glorious head, that was fur- 
nished with abilities adequate to a performance of such vast 
magnitude. Yea, verily, we do indeed break the Divine 
Law, in thought, in word, and in deed, and the lip of truth 
declares, he who offends in one point is guilty of all. 

Why then was the commandment so exceeding broad? 
To convince mankind of imbecility; and that the rectitude 
they had forfeited, could never, in their own individual cha- 
racters be regained. But the plan of Deity was without 
an error, the revolution of time ushered in the great Repre- 
sentative, or more properly speaking, the Head of the body; 
and the forfeit was paid, full atonement was presented, the 
ransom given, and, in this hour of nature's jubilee, the 
prodigal family restored to their original possessor. 

To make this truth manifest was the great business of 
our promulgator. He was convinced, that only he, who 
believed, could be saved; and that he, who believed not, 
was indubitably damned Hence he has frequently said, 
he did not believe in Universal salvation, because he saw the 
majority of mankind were not saved. But he was a firm 
believer in Universal Redemption; because that sacred 
23 



266 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



yolume, which he steadfastly, and unwaveringly believed 
to be the word of God, assured him the price was paid, and 
the wholo human family was redeemed. 

It was the neglecting* to distinguish between salvation and 
redemption, which so frequently drew upon the preacher 
the charge of prevarication, or, as it was termed by Mr. 

C , hiding. An article of intelligence may be an 

established fact; it may most importantly affect us; but so 
long as the mind refuses to admit its authenticity, we are 
undeniably subjected .to all those agonizing apprehensions, 
whi^h we should endure, if no such fact existed; and it was 
the salvation from these mental sufferings, which Mr. Mur- 
ray supposed consequent upon a preached Gospel; in other 
words, an exemption from those tortures, that conscious- 
ness of condemnation, which is most emphatically describ- 
ed, when it is said, He who believeth not, is, or shall be 
damned. 

Yet it is an established truth, that every believer was 
once an unbeliever; every believer, then, was once damned, 
and it was only when he became a believer, that he was 
saved from those countless agonies, which erst times 
pierced him through with many sorrows. But he was re- 
deemed, the price was paid, ere ever he was called into ex- 
istence. Thus, in this view, redemption and salvation are 
distinct considerations. 

The preacher unhesitatingly believed, all who learned of 
the Father would come to Jesus, and that all would finally 
be taught of God. He was a decided believer in the doc- 
trine of angels of light, and angels of darkness, of minister- 
ing spirits of light, and of demons stimulating to deeds of 
darkness. He looked forward to a judgment to come, when 
countless numbers, among the children of men, would rise 
to the resurrection of damnation, and, ignorant of the gen- 
uine character of the Redeemer, would call upon the rocks 
and mountains to fall upon them, and hide them from the 
wrath of the Lamb; and, believing himself a humble 
instrument in the hand of God, ordained by Him to the 
ministry of reconciliation, he was never so completely hap- 
py, as when declaring the gospel to be believed; and calling 
upon men every where, to receive the glad tidings of salva- 
tion. He was persuaded that those, who lied down in sor- 
row, would continue unhappy wanderers, until the opening 
of that book, in which every human being, every member 
of Christ was written; yet he had no idea of any purgation 
for sin, save what was suffered by Christ Jesus, toho, by 
Himself, nurged our sins. Writing of Mr. Winchester to 
a friend, Mr. Murray thus expressed himself, c Mr. Win- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



267 



Chester is full with Mr. Law, and of course preaches pur- 
gatorial satisfaction. According to these gentlemen, every 
man must finally be his own Saviour! If I must suffer as 
much in my own person as will satisfy divine justice, how 
is, or how can Christ Jesus be, my Saviour? If this pur- 
gatorial doctrine be true, the ministry of reconciliation, 
committed to the apostles must be false; c to wit, God was 
in Christ reconciling the world unto himself not imputing 
unto them their trespasses.' In fact, I know no persons 
further from Christianity, genuine Christianity, than such 
Universalists. 5 

Mr Murray supposed the inquietude of unembodied, or 
departed spirits, a natural effect, derived from a cause. As 
unbelievers, they cannot see the things which belong to their 
peace; but he greatly rejoiced, that, however, at present en- 
veloped in darkness, there were, and are, things that did 
and do belong to their peace; that the day cometh, when 
whatsoever is hid shall be revealed; and, that at the period 
of the restitution of all things, the word, the oath of Jeho- 
vah was pledged, that every eye should see, and every 
tongue confess. The preacher was persuaded that &few, 
even in the present dispensation, were elected out of the 
world, to embrace the truth, previous to their passing out 
of time. These judging themselves, are, therefore, not to 
be judged: Saints of God, they shall surround the Redeemer 
at his second coming, or be caught up in the air to meet 
the God-Man; after which, the whole world shall be sum- 
moned at the imperial bar of the Sire of angels and of men, 
the Creator of all worlds: That a separation will then take 
place; the Judge, the Redeemer will divide them, as a 
shepherd divides bis sheep from the goats; will separate 
every individual from that body of sin and death, of which 
Paul complained, being burdened; from that fallen spirit, 
which attaches to every individual in such sort as to the 
man among the tombs rendering it a truth, that he who 
sleepeth, apparently alone upon his bed, is, nevertheless, 
still connected with his tormentor, and will so continue, 
until this glorious day of separation, and of restitution; 
when these two shall be separated, one from another, the 
one taken tfie other left. The fallen angels, figured by the 
goats, shall be ranged on the left hand, while the harassed 
human nature, redeemed by the God who created it, shall 
be found on the right hand of the Most High Thus, after 
the world is judged, out of the things written in the books; 
after they are found guilty before God, and every mouth is 
stopped, the book of life shall be opened, in which all the 
members of the Redeemer, every individual of the Human 



268 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



Family, shall be found written ; and the ransomed of the 
Lord shall be declared denizens of that kingdom, where 
dwelleth felicity uninterrupted. 

Such were the leading sentiments of Our Universalist;. 
and he was firmly of opinion, that the doctrines of the Gos- 
pel, rightly understood, would teach men every where, to 
be careful of maintaining good works, to love one another, 
and in all things to regard the best interests of their 
Brother Man. 

Conversant with the preacher upwards of forty years, we 
never knew his testimony to vary, in the smallest degree- 
In joy and in sorrow, in health, in sickness, and in death, 
not a single cloud appeared to gather upon the countenance 
of his God, or to obstruct, so far as it referred to his pros- 
pects, beyond the grave, the clear sunshine of his soul. 

If we except the Rev. John Tyler, Episcopalian minister 
in Norwich, Connecticut, and the Rev. Edward Mitchell 
in the city of New-York* we do not know that the senti- 
ments of any preacher of Universalism now upon this Con- 
tinent, are exactly in unison with the departed promulga- 
tor. But if they build upon the great foundation, we de- 
voutly wish them Gods speed; well assured, that those 
who build upon this foundation— gold, silver, precious stones, 
wood, hay, stubble — every man's work shall be made mani- 
fest. For the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed 
by fire; and the fire try every man's work, of what sort it is. 
If any man's work abide which he hath built thereupon, he 
shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall be burnt, 
he shall suffer loss, but he himself shall be saved; yet so, as 
by fire. 

Mr Murray's last marriage was the result of a strong and 
holy friendship, founded upon the rock of ages; and, orig- 
inating in devout admiration of redeeming love, it is fer- 
vently hoped, and unwaveringly believed, that this union 
will be perfected in another asd a better World. 

One son, and one daughter, were the offspring of this 
marriage. The son surrendered his innocent life in the 
birth; the daughter still survives, the prop, and consolation 
of her widowed mother. 



APPENDIX. 



It affords us a high degree of satisfaction to know 
that at this period in our history a lively and increasing 
interest is felt in the life and opinions of the distinguish- 
ed individual, who, by his faithfulness and zeal in a 
good cause, entitled himself to the appellation of the 
c father of Universaiism 5 in this country. We regard 
it as a favorable omen, that multitudes are at this time 
disposed to award him the meed of their approbation, 
and cherish a heartfelt respect for his name and vir- 
tues — to rescue his fair fame from the reproaches cast 
upon it by the opponents of the truth he promulgated, 
and bestow upon his doctrinal views that candid atten- 
tion which their importance demands. Seldom have 
men of the next generation understood the motives, 
appreciated the labors, or so fully shared the triumphs 
of a predecessor, engaged as he was in a conflict with 
errors at once venerable, and pernicious. 

We do not claim for the venerated Murray the credit 
of having invented a new system of religion; nor do 
we place him on a level with those who have gained a 
short lived notoriety by defending creeds which they 
themselves had made. Neither should we feel justi- 
fied iu awarding to him the honor of having discovered 
truths before unknown. Nor do those who find most 
in his talents and character to admire, feel over anxious 
to have him ranked with the greatest reformers that 
have ever lived. But we claim for him the honor of 
having been the friend, and to the full extent of his 
ability, the benefactor of mankind. It may be confi- 
dently affirmed, that his public and private labors were 
not less useful than those of many whose fame, or to 
speak more correctly > whose notoriety exceeds his own. 
The very genius and spirit of his religion forbid that 
posterity should add any thing to the humble, yet sig- 
nificant title, by which he chose to be distinguished — - 
that of a i Promulgator of glad tidings'. 
23* 



mo 



APPEKDIXe 



Compared with Calvin, Luther, Wesley, and others 
who have at different periods risen into notice, and 
labored, industriously, and perhaps successfully, to 
uproot old errors, that new ones might be established in 
their stead, he may, at first, seem less deserving of our 
admiration and respect; but when we consider that his 
object was to disenthrall the mass of mind — to elevate 
the moral nature of our species — and to induce man- 
kind to seek for truth, rather than to be satisfied with 
their present attainments; — and when we consider that 
though he was reviled — persecuted — stoned — he did not 
return railing for railing — that his hands were not 
stained with blood, nor his lips polluted with cursings, 
we feel, deeply, and gratefully, that when the mist of 
error and prejudice shall have been dispelled by the 
sun-light of truth and righteousness, it will be known, 
and every where confessed, that the first promulgator 
of Universalism in this country, imitated, more closely 
than many other reformers, the examples of the great 
Master of christians, and that his memory may be as- 
sociated with all that is lovely and of good report. 

His object was a benevolent one. He labored to 
bring the moral affections of mankind under the influ- 
ence of those high, sacred, and ennobling principles, 
which a kind heaven has disclosed in the plan of salva- 
tion by free and impartial grace; — to adorn this earthly 
paradise, not with the productions of another world, 
but with the indigenous fruits and flowers of this, — to 
water them with the dews of heaven, that the love of 
God, shed abroad in the hearts of mankind, might pro- 
duce righteousness and peace. And when we consider 
that the sentiments which he promulgated were entire- 
ly at variance with the religious views which had long 
prevailed in this country, and that, by preaching them, 
he exposed himself to every kind of opposition, we are 
at a loss to account for that heroic fortitude which led 
him to go forward in the discharge of the duty impos- 
ed upon him, or the success which attended, and has 
followed his exertions, without admitting that he was 
directed and sustained by a particular providence. 

We need not apologize for introducing into this ap- 
pendix to the Life of Murray, the following beautiful 
and highly interesting extract from a discourse, deliv- 
ered on Nov. 4, 1832, at Norwich, N. Y. by Rev. A. B. 
Grosh, as it will give the reader a just idea of the 
fruits of Mr. Murray's exertions in the day of small 
things. 



APPENDIX. 



271 



cc From what trifling circumstances do the greatest 
events seemingly take their rise ! What apparently 
chance-produced beginnings does God choose as the 
causes of ro volutions in states, communities, and de- 
nominations ! There are individuals now living, who 
were old enough in 1770, clearly to remember now, 
events that then transpired. Suppose yourself such a 
one, and to have stood on the banks of the Delaware 
in September, of that year — what might you have seen? 

You might have beheld a European merchant vessel 
returning down the river from Philadelphia, whither it 
had sailed on a piece of false information — you might 
have seen the vessel, by another mistake, driven into 
Cranberry Inlet nearly wrecked — you might have be- 
held part of its loading transferred from the vessel to a 
sloop, and a sorrowing stranger placed as a guard over 
it — you might have seen the vessel sail out of the Inlet; 
but, by a sudden change of wind the sloop prevented 
from following. Destitute of provisions for himself 
and the hands under his command, the melancholy 
stranger might have been seen going on shore to pur- 
chase some. He might have been watched as, wan- 
dering in the noble forest and resolving to bury him- 
self, and his talents, and his usefulness, in some such 
retired spot, he came to a log house in that beautiful 
wild, and, directed by its inmates, pursued his way to 
another house in search of fish, a sample of which he 
had seen. There you might have beheld a tall man, 
rough and advanced in years, refuse to sell, but offering 
to bestow on the stranger as many of the finny heap be- 
fore them, as he wanted. Had you continued your ob- 
servations you might have witnessed and heard the 
friendly, yet earnest altercations which succeeded, and 
continued, at intervals, for several days, between this 
inhabitant of the New World, and the stranger from 
the Old. You might have heard the aged resident in- 
sisting that the sorrowing stranger should preach to 
them on the following Sunday, and the latter as ear- 
nestly declaring that he would depart for New York by 
the first fair wind. 

But the wind changed not. Sunday came, and found 
the sorrowing stranger still the guest of his hospitable 
friend, — and, reluctantly, indeed, he consented to deliver 
his message. Trembling and tearful you might have 
seen him delivering his gospel message to an auditory 
gathered out of the wilderness, in a house erected, as 
the host declared, expressly for him, and such as preach- 



272 



APPENDIX. 



ed the same gospel — in a temple where never before 
had preacher promulgated the same glad tidings. 

Suppose you had been there sixty two years ago, and 
heard that sermon — delivered in despite of so many 
opposing circumstances, resolves, and determinations — 
delivered in consequence of so many trifling, but unac- 
countable chance-occurrences, as some would call them 
— Yes; suppose you had heard that sermon, so full of 
love and benignity — overflowing your partial creed 
of mingled blessings and cursings with universal and 
impartial grace — and that you had then gone your way 
in the levity of youth, and the forgetfulness of indiffer- 
ence and prejudice. # * # # 

Now change the scene. Suppose that now, after 
three score years have elapsed, you were to journey 
over these States, scarcely remembering that early oc- 
currence of your life, but observantly regardful of the 
changes which half a century has produced in the the- 
ological views, and religious feelings of the people of 
this new and rising empire. 

You could not but hear of Universalists as the fifth 
(if not the fourth) in order, in point of numbers, re- 
spectability and talent, among the denominations of 
the land. You would hear that, though persecuted, 
calumniated, and contemned, they were among the 
greatest reading people in the Union; having no less 
than nineteen or twenty periodicals, issuing every 
month at least one hundred thousand sheets to twenty- 
five or thirty thousand subscribers, and among at least 
thrice that number of regular readers. You would 
find a Universalist Convention of the New-England 
states, attended by nearly fifty preachers and hundreds 
of lay delegates — that the States of Maine, Connecti- 
cut, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and South Carolina 
had each their State Conventions — that in Massachu- 
setts, Vermont, New Hampshire, and other States, 
similar Conventions were being organized — that a 
United States' Convention was talked of, and measures 
commenced for its formation— that Associations exist 
in North Carolina, Indiana, and other States where 
conventions are not yet organized — that, in the United 
States, there are upwards of six hundred Universalist 
societies and congregations; more than one hundred 
meeting houses owned by them, or in part, and about 
three hundred preachers— that, in the southern and west- 
ern States the doctrine is extending its progress faster 
than preachers can follow to proclaim and defend it, 



APPENDIX. 



273 



while, in the eastern and middle States, ministers, lay- 
men, and even whole societies, are embracing this cal- 
umniated doctrine, and coming over to its avowal and 
support. You would also find that this c sect, which is 
everywhere spoken against, 5 is awaking to a just sense 
of its duty and importance, and is freeing itself from 
the fetters of dependence — has established two Semi- 
naries of learning; has devised, and is about progress- 
ing to completion with two others, and has taken a 
stand of disinterested love to untrammelled science 
and knowledge, which must ultimately cause many a 
partial and bigotted institution to tremble under the 
power of reformation to the very centre, or to crumble 
to dust in the jarring conflict of their slavish measures 
with purified public opinion. 

Astonished, beyond measure, at the numbers, indus- 
try, talents, extent, influence, and rapid spread of a de- 
nomination whose very name, most probably, had never 
saluted your ear sixty years ago, you would seek to as- 
certain the origin of a people differing so widely in 
sentiment from all others in the land, and increasing, 
so rapidly, in despite of the united opposition of all the 
other denominations. What would be the increase of 
your wonder on being informed, that the sorrowing and 
solitude-seeking stranger, whom you beheld, in Sep- 
tember, 1770, (sixty two years ago,) driven into Cran- 
berry Inlet as by accident — whom you saw so providen- 
tially detained there— whom you noticed straying, as by 
chance, to the hospitable mansion of the rude, unletter- 
ed, but kind-hearted Potter — whom you heard with 
tears, prayers, and supplications, declining to exercise 
the functions of a preacher — whom you saw watching, 
with much anxiety, but in vain, for a change in the 
wind to carry him to New York before the coming Sun- 
day, and thus forever release him from appearing be- 
fore a congregation — whom you heard with much weak- 
ness and trembling, break the hushed stillness of that 
forest-embowered meeting-house, by proclaiming the 
Gospel with demonstration and power, — that lonely, 
sorrowing stranger was JOHN MURRAY — the first 
avowed Universalist preacher in the United States — 
and that sermon, you then heard, was the first Univer- 
salist sermon preached in America — and that meet- 
ing-house, built expressly by the pious and venerable 
Thomas Potter, for c one of God's own preachers,' is 
the first Universalist meeting-house erected in the 
Americas by the hands of man !" 



274 



APPENDIX. 



In view of the foregoing facts, all persons of ingenu- 
ous minds will be disposed to give Mr. Murray a char- 
acter, and accord to him merits, which shall entitle 
him to an elevated rank among those who, in different 
ages of the church, have entered the field of moral im- 
provement, and who, by their exertions, have secured 
the respect, and excited the admiration of their fellow 
men. Of the truth that he was sincere in the belief 
and maintenance of his peculiar opinions there can be 
no doubt — the best encomium that can be bestowed up- 
on his talents and character, is to be inferred from the 
fact, that the first were universally admitted to be of 
a high order — sufficiently so to entitle him to eminence 
in his profession, and that no charges have ever been 
preferred against him that remain unrefuted. And 
of this latter fact the denomination of which he was, 
under God, the founder, may justly be proud; since the 
novelty and unpopularity of his views exposed him to 
assaults from " those of the contrary part;" many no 
doubt feeling under solemn obligations to God, to as- 
sail his reputation, and disturb his repose in order to 
prevent his turning the world up-side down. Still, he 
did not " daub with untempered mortar," but advanced 
sentiments, which, as foreseen by the more intelligent 
among his enemies, were destined to overthrow the 
then popular divinity of the times, and establish a new 
systerr of faith, not upon the ruins of traditions at once 
venerable and mischievous, but upon the broad, and 
indistructible foundation of the Redeemer's love and 
grace. If, then, with so much to contend with, he ac- 
complished his warfare and came out of the battle-field 
unscathed, we may safely claim for him a reputation 
far — very far above that of many others whose names 
and memories have been embalmed in the affections of 
their disciples. 

Here it may be well to remark, that Mr. Murray was 
a person distinguished by peculiar characteristics. His 
sensibility, as we learn from those who were his inti- 
mate acquaintances, was uncommonly acute. Of him 
it may be justly said, that "he wept with those who wept, 
and rejoiced with those who rejoiced." His sympathies 
were easily excited. In conversation he was free, and 
remarkably interesting, frequently indulging in that in- 
nocent hilarity which made him a welcome guest 
wherever he went. In the discharge of his public du- 
ties, he was always animated, and not unfrequently in- 
describably interesting; at times apparently absorbed 



APPENDIX. 



275 



in contemplation upon the theme of his discourse, and 
overwhelmed with emotions excited by the glories of 
that grace which he proclaimed. Many anecdotes re- 
lated by his friends who survive him, and many inter- 
esting reminiscences of his life, might easily be col- 
lected; but this appendix being designed for more 
serious and important purposes, we pass them over in 
silence. 

Such being the character of the man; such his tal- 
ents; such his eminent ministerial qualifications; and 
such the results of his labors, it becomes a question of 
no little importance, How extensively his views have 
affected the theology of this age and country; and not 
less interesting, to know in what respects they have in- 
fluenced the religious and moral concerns of mankind. 

In regard to the extent to which the theology of this 
country has been affected by the promulgation of the 
distinguishing views of Mr. Murray, it may be proper 
to observe, that the change which has been wrought 
does not, as some seem to have imagined, consist in the 
conversion of here and there an individual; nor in the 
gathering of societies in various parts of America; nor 
in the erection of churches, the issuing of periodical 
publications, nor in the establishment of schools and 
seminaries — it consists in none of these things exclusive- 
ly. His views have taken a far wider range, exerted an 
influence upon creeds and doctrines which yet retain 
many admirers, and have wrought many improvements 
which are as yet recognized but by a few, and acknowl- 
edged, as the fruits of his labors, by none, save those 
who have openly avowed their attachment to his prin- 
ciples. True, the friends of liberal Christianity have 
enough to gratify and encourage them, in the facts above 
mentioned — in what may be denominated the visible 
seals of his ministry and crowns of our rejoicing — but 
where, it may be triumphantly asked, where is the doc- 
trine that prevailed in this country fifty years ago, that 
has not been more or less affected by the sentiments 
which were advanced, and defended, by Mr. Murray? 

It is sufficiently well known, that a half century ago, 
Calvinism, rank and impure as it came from the hands 
of its author, was the prevailing doctrine of this coun- 
try. It was adapted to the stern and unenlightened na- 
tures of our puritan forefathers; it had been sanctified by 
the persecutions of its trans-Atlantic opponents; and, 
as common in all new governments, it was, to all in- 



S76 



APPENDIX. 



tents and purposes, united with the institutions and laws 
of the land. 

Few, perhaps, even among those who remain appa- 
rently firm, in their adherence to the orthodoxy of that 
period, are sensible of its grossness and absurdity; and 
yet, but here and there one can be found, who is willing 
to undertake its defence. The damnation of infants 
was then believed, and preached, as among the funda- 
mental doctrines of the gospel. The same may be said 
of the personality — perhaps we might safely add, the 
materiality and ubbiquity of the devil; of the locality 
of hell; of absolute election and reprobation; of the 
final perseverance of the saints, and many other con- 
comitants of an erroneous and anti-scriptural religion. 
These dogmas, though still retained in creeds and arti- 
cles of faith, and never openly denounced by calvinis- 
tic churches, have been silently, and without reluctance, 
abandoned. 

The doctrines of the sects who have professed a pi- 
ous abhorrence of Calvinism, but still clung to the dog- 
ma of endless punishment, may be regarded as the off- 
spring of a desire (which has always existed in the 
hearts of christians) to shield the character of God 
from the hatred of his creatures, by finding an excuse 
for the creation of intelligent beings with a fixed pur- 
pose to render them forever miserable. The notion 
that some will be forever lost had become so firmly 
rooted in the minds of professors, was so congenial 
with the spiritual pride of their hearts, and conduced so 
directly to the aggrandisement of those entrusted with 
the guardianship of their moral interests, that it was 
next to impossible to eradicate it. To these circum- 
stances may be imputed the efforts which were made to 
modify Calvinism, and the rapid spread of sentiments 
less repugnant to the feelings of mankind, but which 
recognize, in the grand result, the same unhappy doom 
of a portion of the human race. 

! Let it now be inquired, What at first rendered it ap- 
parent to the minds of the clergy, that these modifica- 
tions and improvements were necessary? The answer 
is a plain one, and its correctness will hardly be ques- 
tioned. The promulgation of Universalism, the preach- 
ing of Heaven's impartial grace, produced that effect. 
Those who were interested in these matters, were not 
long in being convinced, that, unless some method of 
exonerating God from the charge of deliberate cruelty. 



APPENDIX. 



277 



in the production of millions pre-doomed to hopeless 
wretchedness, could be devised, the people would re- 
ject, with little ceremony, the whole scheme of partial 
grace. Hence the rapid spread and popularity of the 
views of the Methodists in this country. The idea that 
the Almighty, in gathering up his jewels, would have 
regard to the works of mankind, seemed less repugnant 
to reason and revelation than the Calvinistic doctrine 
that some men and angels were chosen to enjoy eternal 
life, and others consigned to despair c without the least 
foresight of faith, good works, or any conditions per- 
formed by the creature, 5 and was consequently embrac- 
ed with great readiness. 

The same observations apply to many of the views 
advanced by the celebrated Dr. Hopkins. They hav- 
ing been engrafted on Calvinism, and intended to ren- 
der the doctrine of endless punishment less glaringly 
absurd, in the estimation of those who had formerly ad- 
hered to it, made considerable progress in the New 
England states, and has had the effect to soften, in 
some measure, the hard features of puritanical theolo- 
gy. How far the mind of Dr. Hopkins himself may 
have been wrought upon, by the sentiments of Mr. 
Murray, it is of course impossible to determine; but 
when we consider that they had not a little conversa- 
tion upon the subject, that Mr. Murray gained many 
converts in Newport, the place where Hopkins resided, 
and that he published his work entitled " An Inquiry, 
concerning the future state of those who die in their 
sins," in 1783, about thirteen years after Mr. Murray 
commenced his labors in this country, and that he direct- 
ed his arguments against Universalism and its advocates, 
particularly against Relley, — when all these things are 
taken into the account, it is impossible to resist the con- 
viction that Hopkins, while contending against the 
views of Mr. Murray, labored to render his own or- 
thodoxy less vulnerable, by divesting it of some of its 
more palpably odious characteristics. He has been ac- 
cused, by the Calvinists, and no doubt justly, of having 
advanced sentiments favorable to Universalism. — 
6 Why,' demanded an opposer of his views — c why 
have not the Universalists, &c. multiplied within the 
bounds of the Presbyterian Church as rapidly as they 
have in New England ? # 5 The answer which he 
would have inferred from subsequent remarks, is the 
same as would be given by any candid person — c be- 

* Ely's Contrast, p. 257. 

24 



278 



APPENDIX. 



cause Hopkinsianism prevailed in New England; f ancf^ 
though designed to render Calvinism less odious, it en- 
couraged inquiry, and paved the way for its abandon- 
ment. 

The foregoing instances have been mentioned to show 
that the labors of Mr. Murray have been eminently 
conducive to the improvement which has taken place 
in the religious affairs of this country. That a great 
change has been wrought no one will deny; and that 
the reformation commenced at the time when Mr. 
Murray began to attract the attention of intelligent 
men of all denominations, is now susceptible of conclu- 
sive proof. It is no more than is justly due to his name 
and memory, to say, that he gave that impulse to the 
mass of mind, which has impelled it onward to freedom 
and liberality; and that the different sects whose creeds 
have been altered to suit the era of better feeling, are in- 
debted to him, as much as to any other individual, for 
the beneficial change which has been wrought in the 
doctrines they profess. i, 

It has been the singular fortune of Mr. Murray to 
have been claimed by two classes of Christians, both 
agreeing in the belief of the final salvation of all man- 
kind, but differing in opinion respecting the duration 
of punishment. We are glad that it is so; for it argues 
that both parties are disposed, now, while a recollec- 
tion of his virtues, and the lessons which fell from his 
lips, is fresh in many hearts, to render him the honor 
he earned by his faithfulness. Still we are compelled 
to say that the influence of his name belongs exclusive- 
ly neither to the one, nor the other. His fame, be it 
more or less, is the property of the liberal portion of 
community. His doctrines affect the interests of all 
alike. He possessed a soul too much under the influ- 
ence of gospel principles, to bequeath his name, or the 
benefits of his labors, to any sect. 

It has been deemed important to compare the views 
of Mr. Murray with the sentiments maintained by his 
highly esteemed fellow-laborer, the pious and talented 
Winchester; and this may be done, to an extent suffi- 
cient to show that, in certain respects, they disagreed, 
while, at the same time, they cherished feelings of pure 
regard for each other. But, in doing this we disclaim 
having any desire to render the comparison invidious, 
by throwing the influence of a name, however sincere- 
ly venerated, into the scale against any sentiment how- 
ever erroneous in the estimation of those who consider 



APPENDIX. 



279 



themselves entitled to the distinctive appellation of 
Universalists. 

That neither party may consider him as exclusively 
their own, instances will first be mentioned in which 
the less important opinions which he maintained differ- 
ed from those of Universalists of the present time; 
and then some notice will be taken of instances in 
which his views disagree with those of persons who 
fjave chosen to be distinguished from their brethren, by 
the appellation of Restorationists. 

The following are among the instances in which he 
advanced sentiments which are held but by few among 



own language. c It is manifest that our Saviour Jesus 
Christ, is both God and man. All fullness dwelleth in 
him. He was the God with us. The fulness of the 
God-head dwelling in him was the offended Being; the 
fullness of our humanity in him was the offending na- 
ture. From the fulness of the God-head came the law 
by Moses; through the fullness of the humanity came 
grace and truth.' Letters and Sketches of Sermons, 
Vol. 1. p. 81. In this quotation two ideas are express- 
ed from which Universalists now very generally dissent. 
The doctrine of the incarnation of the whole God-head 
is pure Sabellianism. The advocates of that doctrine 
express their views as follows. c The w T hole God-head 
was incarnated, so that God dwelt in the man Christ 
Jesus, as he formerly did, with a visible glory, in the 
Jewish temple. 5 6 We need not multiply words to 
show, that Unitarian Universalism admits no idea of 
this kind. Nor is it now admitted, by Universalists 
generally, that man possesses two natures; and their 
views necessarily conflict with many of Mr. Murray's 
interpretations of scripture, in which he fully express- 
ed and maintained, that human beings were thus con- 
stituted.* 

Again: His views of the nature of salvation differ 
essentially from those now entertained by Universal- 
ists. He held that all were condemned in the first 
Adam; and justified by the vicarious atonement of the 
second, Christ. This is evinced by the use he made of 
the following passages. Isa. liii. 4. and Jer. xxx- 
"23, with other similar texts. After quoting, in his let. 

* Those who are desirous of examining more minutely Mr. M.'s 
views upon this topic, will find them fully expressed in Letters and 
Sketches of Sermons, Vol. 1. pp. 45. 50. 49. 62, 3, 4. 85, 6. 88. 



those now denominated 




quote hi3 



0& 



230 



ter to ail afflicted Lady, the words ( Behold the whirl-* 
wind of the Lord goeth forth with fury, a continuing 
whirlwind, it shall fall with pain upon the head of the 
wicked' — he adds, c Either on Jesus Christ who was 
made sin for us, who is the head of every man', or, final- 
ly, on c that wicked ' spoken of by the apostle PauL 
in his second epistle to the Thessalonians, ii. 8. c And 
then shall that wicked be revealed, whom the Lord 
shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and destroy 
with the brightness of his coming. 5 Again he says y 
Vol. 1. p. 44. c The soul that sinneth it shall die, saith 
the prophet, and this sin, when it was finished, brought 
forth death; and as there is no man who liveth, and 
sinneth not, so the sentence of death is passed upon all 
men; and as God declared he would by no means clear 
the guilty, this sentence has been fully executed on 
every man. When Jesus died for the ungodly , when he 
died for the sins of the world, when by the grace of 
God he tasted death for every man, then, sin being 
finished, brought forth death. Again he says, ibid. p. 
45. c Thus God, instead of clearing the guilty, exacted the 
uttermost farthing; hence he is a just God, and a Sa- 
viour; hence he is just in justifying the ungodly ; and 
hence, also, appears the justice of God, in the sufferings 
and death of him, who in himself, detached from the 
race of Adam, was pure and undefiled, perfectly sinless, 
But, it should be remembered, Christ is the head of 
every man, the individuals of the lost nature constitute 
the aggregate of our Lord's mystical body, the compre 
hensive term union is the key by which we unlock this 
mystery, the head and members are united, and the in- 
iquity of the members is visited upon the Head. Yes,* 
he continues, c he bore the sins of all those who went 
astray, and, thus standing in our place, it was just the 
effect should follow the cause, that death, the wages of 
sin, should fall on the transgressor.'* 

From the foregoing quotations it will be seen, that he 
held to a complete salvation from punishment, through 
the merits of Christ, — an idea which has been very gen- 
erally abandoned by Universalists, as well as by many 
of other denominations, and superseded by the more 
rational and scriptural doctrine of salvation from sin 
through the medium of truth and grace as communicat- 
ed by our Lord Jesus Christ. Indeed it is well known, 
that the method by which he proved the final salvation 

* See also Vol. 1. pp. 48, 50, 55, 88 & 9. where his views on 
this subject are more fully expressed. 



I 



APPENDIX. 



281 



*>f all men, and his interpretations of scripture, differed, 
essentially, from those of the denomination generally. 
Still, between him and those who now profess the doc- 
trine of £ the final restitution ' in regard to the result 
of the gospel plan, there is no disagreement. He be- 
lieved in no future punishment beyond the ( great day 
•of the Lord; ' but held to the complete triumph of eter- 
nal goodness over sin, death, and hell, at, or immediate- 
ly succeeding a final judgment, which, according to him, 
would be a day of triumph for the Saviour, and un- 
speakable joy to a ransomed world. 

Having said thus much of Mr. Murray's views, it 
may be proper to go still further, and exhibit his opin- 
ions relative to the future condition of those who die 
in a state of impenitence and unbelief. 

He did not believe that the wicked would be imme- 
diately at death, introduced into the enjoyments of the 
heavenly kingdom. His belief, in relation to this sub- 
ject is thus expressed in his own language. c He who 
dies in unbelief, lies dowm in sorrow, and will rise to 
the resurrection of damnation, or, more properly, con- 
demnation. Blessed are the people who know the 
joyful sound; it is they, and they only, that walk in the 
light of God's countenance. If this was not the case, 
where would be the necessity of preaching the gospel 
at all? If, in the article of death, every one for whom 
Christ died were made acquainted with him, and con- 
sequently, with the things that made for their peace, 
why trouble mankind, in life, about these matters? 
Why go forth as sheep among wolves, suffering every- 
thing that the malice of blind zeal can inflict, in order 
to turn men from darkness to light, if the period to 
which we are all hastening, will effectually open the 
eyes of the understanding? If death destroys all dis- 
tinctions, would it not be well to say, c Let us eat, 
drink, and be merry; for to-morrow we die? 3 c We 
are commanded to preach the gospel, and this is a suffi- 
cient reason why we should preach the gospel.' Very 
true; but why are we commanded to preach the gospel? 
Is it not, that faith may come by hearing, and that, liv- 
ing by faith on the Son of God, we may finish our 
course with joy? But, if every one of the ransomed 
race are to be equally happy in death, then, although 
they did not live by faith, they, nevertheless, finish 
their course with joy, nor shall any individual arise to 
the resurrection of condemnation. This may be con- 
solatory, but it is not scriptural. These Sectarians, 
24 * 



282 



APPENDIX. 



aware of this error, support it by another, and, there- 
fore, deny a future judgment. 

c Blessed, saith the Holy Spirit, are the dead, who die 
in the Lord, they rest from their labours. But if all are 
alike in death, it may be said, Blessed are the dead, 
who die in their sin, that is in unbelief, for they rest 
from their labours; but this cannot be, since it is only 
those, who believing the word of the gospel, put on the 
Lord Jesus, and having received him as their right- 
eousness, sanctification, and redemption, so walk in 
him, that can be said to die in him. These, and these 
only, have part in the first resurrection, on whom the 
second death can have no power. These, in the resur- 
rection, shall meet their Saviour with transport; they 
shall rise to the resurrection of salvation; they shall 
come to Zion with songs; they shall rejoice, while the 
many who are, nevertheless, redeemed, yet unac- 
quainted with the things, which make for their peace, 
and who rise in the second resurrection, shall be filled 
with anguish. It is from these unhappy, despairing 
beings, that the Lord God will wipe away all tears; 
it is from these benighted beings, that the hand of 
divine benignity shall take away the veil. Those, who 
live and die in faith, shall have no tears to wipe away, 
no veil to remove. Tears, weeping, and wailing, will 
continue as long as unbelief, the procuring cause shall 
remain. These evils will be done away together, not 
in the article of death, but in the day of the Lord, 
when every eye shall see, and every tongue shall con- 
fess to the glory of the Father. 5 — Life and Sketches. 

At the day of judgment, as before observed, Mr. 
Murray supposed that all sin and misery would end. 
Men are not, according to his views, then to be sen- 
tenced to punishment for their sins, but, as the inherit- 
ance of Christ, to be gathered together in him, and 
made holy and happy. Unbelievers are then to awake 
to a knowledge of the truth; but this is to them the 
resurrection to condemnation, inasmuch as they are 
not, before death, prepared for happiness. But of the 
two classes he speaks as follows. 

c The believer is, in death, peculiarly happy; he is 
then made perfect in holiness, and doth immediately 
pass into glory. He leaves everything distressing be- 
hind, and enters into the glory of the Lord. Thus holy 
and thus blessed, he hath part in the first resurrection. 
The second death hath no power over him. He cometh 
not to the judgment; it is the world that will be judged. 



APPENDIX. 



283 



These having judged themselves, shall not be judged. 
These are not of the world, these were chosen out of 
the world. These rise to the resurrection of life; and 
instead of being judged, we are informed by an Apostle, 
that they shall judge angels. 

The unbeliever is a wretched slave, first to the devil, 
secondly to sin, and thirdly to fear. Fear, we know, 
hath torment; — he is like the prodigal feeding on husks. 
Has he hope? It is the hope of the hypocrite, which 
will make him ashamed; it will be as the giving up of 
the ghost. 

The unbeliever is miserable in life, and in death, not 
crediting the gospel of God, our Saviour, which declar- 
eth that Jesus died for him : death appeareth to him no 
shadow it approacheth as a most formidable substance: 
it is the king of terrors. Not having put on the Lord 
Jesus, the unbeliever dies in his sins; and where Christ 
is, where is fullness of joy, he cannot come: when he 
dies he lies down in sorrow, he leaves all his happiness 
behind him. Death and the grave, darkness and hell, 
receive him; and when the trumpet, destined to raise 
the dead, shall be sounded, he will rise to the resurrec- 
tion of damnation or condemnation: he will call upon 
the rocks and mountains to fall upon him, to hide him 
from the wrath of the Lamb. The books will be opened; 
he will be judged out of the things written in the books; 
he will be condemned or damned, which words are 
synonymous. Every man will be rewarded according 
to his works. To him who, by patient continuance in 
well doing, did the will of God, glory and honour; to 
him who was disobedient, tribulation and anguish. To 
the Jew first, and also to the Gentile. 

For the Lord shall be revealed from heaven in flam- 
ing fire, taking vengeance on them who know not God, 
and who obey not the gospel, who shall be punished 
with everlasting destruction from the presence of the 
Lord, and from the glory of his power. Then shall he 
say, bring forth these men who would not that I should 
reign over them, and slay them before me. Then shall 
a sword proceed from the mouth of him that sitteth on 
the white horse, with which he shall slay the nations 
They shall be slain as Paul was slain when the com- 
mandment slew him, and he died; every mouth shall 
be stopped, all the world shall be guilty before God, 
confessedly guilty. 

But, blessed be God, another book shall then be 
opened, and whosoever is found written in this book, 



APPENDIX. 



shall be saved from the power of the adversary. But 
who are written in this book? 

In thy book, saith the spirit, all my members are 
written, and the aggregate of the human family, make 
up the members of Christ's body. The Redeemer will 
then separate his redeemed, as a shepherd divideth his 
sheep from the goats; placing the fallen angels, who 
have still stimulated the race of Adam to every evil, 
and prevented them from every good — placing these 
fallen angels, whose names are not written in the 
Lamb's book of life, upon his left hand, while those 
who have been distressed and harassed by their decep- 
tions, thus separated from every evil, shall be placed on 
the right hand. 

And in a letter to a friend, he further says : — £ Yes, 
all who are in their graves shall hear the voice of 
the Son of God, and they who hear shall live. Yes, the 
prince of this world is judged, and the angels who kept 
not their first estate are reserved unto the judgment of 
the great day. The saints, the chosen few, the elect, 
shall be in the judgment seat, judging the world. Know 
ye not that we shall judge angels, said an Apostle. 

The dead in Christ shall rise first. There are, among 
the children of men, but two characters: such who, 
according to the direction of the spirit, put on the Lord 
Jesus, and having lived by faith in him, finished their 
course with joy, and laying down in peace, rise to the 
resurrection of salvation; having judged themselves, 
they shall not be judged according to the word of the 
Redeemer, c judge yourselves, and you shall not be 
judged. 5 These are the first fruits, the dead in Christ, 
who shall first rise. 

The second description includes those who have not 
believed, because they have not known. They never 
conceived that Jesus died for their sins, and rose again 
for their justification; — they lay down with a damning 
consciousness of sin, and of course they must rise to the 
resurrection of damnation. Damnation, so the transla- 
tors will have it; they are extremely fond of this phrase; 
yet they know there is no such phrase in the New- 
Testament; but they think it sounds well, more terrific. 
Sir, you know the word thus rendered, should be con- 
demnation; they shall rise to the resurrection of con- 
demnation; and, while continuing in ignorance and 
unbelief, they shall imagine the Lamb is possessed of 
wrath, and under this apprehension we repeat, they 
will call upon the mountains to fall upon them. 



APPENDIX. 



285 



But, as I before observed, another book will be 
opened, the book of life; and the face of the covering 
will be taken from all people, and the veil from all 
nations, and every eye shall see, and every tongue con- 
fess; and every creature in heaven, on earth, and under 
the earth, and in the sea, yea, all of them shall ascribe, 
Blessing, and glory, and honour, to him that sitteth on 
the throne, and to the Lamb forever and ever. And 
there shall be no more sorrow, nor crying, nor pain; 
all old things shall pass away, and all things shall 
become new. Then, indeed, shall the accuser of the 
brethren be cast out into his proper element, darkness; 
then shall the tables be turned upon the adversary, and 
like Hainan, he must himself submit to the death he 
intended for Mordecai.' 

We conclude these extracts by one quotation from 
his hints, relative to forming a christian church. — c Yes, 
the books shall be opened, and the dead, both small and 
great, shall be judged out of the things written in the 
books. Every mouth shall be stopped, and all the 
world become guilty before God; and while conscious 
of guilt, but ignorant of a Saviour, and that the Saviour 
is the only wise God who is just even as a Savior, they 
shall call upon the rocks and mountains to fall upon 
them, that they may, beneath the covert of the falling 
mountains, be hidden from the wrath of the Lamb. 
But in this judgment, the Judge is the Savior. Here 
all judgment is committed unto Jesus, because he is 
the Son of man, the Son of the offending, suffering, 
affrighted nature. In that future day, upon which God 
hath appointed the judgment, it is the Prince and the 
Saviour who is appointed to judge the world in right- 
eousness, even that man whom the divine Nature 
ordained. Here, instead of head and members being 
judged together by the head of Christ, the divine 
Nature, the members are considered, in their distinct 
characters, as good and evil, or believer and unbeliever, 
as children of light or children of darkness, and judged 
by their own head, for the head of every man is Christ. 

Again, The business of this judgment may be consid- 
ered, in some sort, different from the former. That, 
was to suffer the wages of sin; this, after suffering the 
consequence of unbelief, which is the torment of fear, 
to stop every mouth, that the Lord alone may be 
exalted, and to bring every one into a state of willing 
obedience unto the gospel. In the former judgment, 
sin was put away from the lost nature, by the death or 



286 



APPENDIX. 



sacrifice of the Saviour as the second Adam, so that 
God may behold the once lost and polluted nature, as 
saved and pure in him. The last judgment is to bring 
each member into the same state in themselves. Once 
more; as in the former judgment, the prince of this 
world, who also is called the God of this world, was 
cast out, in the last judgment the whole of the angelic 
nature, who fell from their first habitation, and who are 
reserved in chains of darkness unto the judgment of 
this great day, will, in the character of goats placed on 
the left hand of the Shepherd of the sheep, be judged, 
and sent, as accursed, into the fire prepared for them. 
Then shall that wicked be revealed, whom the Lord 
shall consume with the breath of his mouth, and destroy 
by the brightness of his coming. 5 

Having given an epitome of Mr. Murray's views 
upon several important subjects, we are now prepared 
to enter somewhat particularly into a consideration of 
the light in which he viewed the sentiments of his dis- 
tinguished cotemporary, and fellow-laborer, Rev. Elha- 
nan Winchester, and to notice the tenderness of feeling 
which the former cherished towards the latter, and 
which we trust was duly reciprocated. 

Mr. Winchester, like the first promulgator of glad 
tidings in this country, was a man possessed of extraor- 
dinary talents, and he adorned them by an elevated 
piety. These great and good men maintained opinions 
which were decidedly dissimilar. Still it has often been 
said, and may be here repeated, that, unlike many 
cotemporary reformers, they entertained no feelings of 
enmity towards each other. 

Mr. Winchester became a convert to the doctrine of 
the final restitution, and avowed his change of opinion 
at Philadelphia, in the month of October, 1780. Mr 
Murray at that time resided at Gloucester, Mass. The 
conversion of one so deservedly popular as he seems to 
have been, could not but attract public attention. The 
gladsome intelligence soon reached the ears of Mr. 
Murray, who expressed his feelings at the time as fol- 
lows. C( My wish for a union of sentiment among those, 
especially teachers, who advocate the pure doctrine of 
God our Savior, is a predominating wish. I have 
been accused of assuming the dictator, but the truth is, 
it would give me inexpressible satisfaction to find, in 
every town on the continent, a preacher infinitely supe- 
rior to myself, both for matter and manner. I do not 
think I should be tortured by envy. God all-gracious. 



APPENDIX. 



increase the number of faithful, well-instructed labor- 
ers, who may administer the truth in righteousness. ? 
(Letters and Sketches, Vol. 2, p. 111.) In a communi- 
cation addressed to Mr. W., he says — 

c Reverend Sir, — Although personally unacquainted 
with you, yet you will not be surprised at hearing from 
me, when you recollect a letter which you have recently 
written to a Mr. B. which has been handed to me, and 
in which I am mentioned. 

The letter to which I advert contains many excellent., 
because divine truths; and it afforded me, in the read- 
ing, some heavenly sensations. It is so rare to find any 
person on earth speaking the language of heaven, that 
with every other charm, it possesses also the charm of 
novelty. 

Many months have elapsed since public fame brought 
to my ears the soul-reviving intelligence, that a certain 
gentleman who had breathed forth the spirit of Saul of 
Tarsus, was now like the Apostle Paul preaching that 
faith which before he persecuted, boldly affirming that 
in the way the worshippers of antichrist called heresy, 
so worshipped he the God of his fathers. When I heard 
this report, I felt, I believe, much as people in general 
do when they hear the gospel. I thought it was too good 
to be true. I did not, at the moment, attend to the 
power of him who calleth whom he will out of dark- 
ness, and bringing them into his marvellous light; who 
sendeth them forth to publish his salvation to every 
creature; to proclaim to every creature, that he died 
for their sins, and arose again for their justification. 

However, as public report is so little worthy of credit, 
I determined to suspend my judgment, well persuaded 
that if you were indeed a genuine disciple of the true 
Christ, the deceived worshippers of antichrist would 
soon, by their manifold calumnies, sufficiently ascertain 
the fact; for he who said, Lo, I am with you always to 
the end of the world, said also, If ye be of me, the world 
will hate you, and they will thrust you out of the syna- 
gogue, saying all manner of evil of you, falsely, for my 
name sake. But if it is given you on the behalf of 
Christ to believe, I trust it will be also given you cheer- 
fully to suffer for his name sake; nor will you sorrow 
as those without hope, for, blessed be God, our hope is 
full of immortality, and therefore it is a hope thatmaketh 
not ashamed. 

0, the distinguishing grace of God! To you it is 
given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, but 



398 



APPEKDIX. 



to others in parables. But light is put into you, as we 
put a candle in a candlestick, that it may give light to 
all that are in the house. Mankind are even now in the 
house. In God we live, move, and have our being; but 
they know not where they are; if thou hadst known, 
says our Saviour, who it is that saith unto thee, Give 
me to drink, thou wouldst have asked of him; and he 
would have given thee living water, &c. &c. This is 
life eternal to know him, the only true God, and Jesus 
Christ whom he hath sent; and why? Because Jesus is 
the life of the world. 

Go on then, thou highly favoured of the Lord. I bid 
thee God speed. Go on and preach Jesus and the res- 
urrection. Cry aloud, spare not; tell professors their 
transgressions; tell churchmen their sins, and show 
them that they, on whom the tower of Siloam fell, were 
not sinners worse than they; tell them that their works 
are evil. They will hate you for this; but remember 
him who hath said, They hated me before they hated 
you; and if they have done these things in the green 
tree, what shall they not do in the dry?' — [Let. Sk.~\ 

Their subsequent introduction, and the commence- 
ment of their personal acquaintance is described in Mr. 
Murray's journal as follows — c I have a prospect of 
being introduced to a clergyman of great eminence in 
the religious world. He was, I am told, a zealous and 
most inveterate persecutor, of those who professed to 
believe in the doctrines of the gospel, and was diligent- 
ly employed in searching the sacred records, to qualify 
himself to enter the lists as a disputant, should chance 
ever throw me in his way : but being a man of great in- 
tegrity, and remarkable for candor, much to the aston- 
ishment of his clerical brethren, the result of his in- 
vestigation, produced him a Universalist of the Chaun- 
cey school. Yet, this shade of difference I conceived 
would operate as an effectual bar to his intercourse, or 
religious communion with me. However, I have, as I 
said, some reason to expect an interview with this same 
Mr. W , and my expectation originates in a conver- 
sation, of which, considering the event it may produce, 
I think proper to preserve the following minutes. 

c G. Have you ever seen Mr. W ? 

M. No, Sir. 

G. I attend on his ministry, Sir; and but that he is 
too ill to go abroad, I am persuaded he would have 
waited upon you. 

M. I am told Mr. W is ill, Sir, and I very much 



APPENDIX. 



289 



regret his indisposition. I will thank you to present 
him my respectful compliments. 

G. That I will, Sir, with a vast deal of pleasure. I 
shall be very happy indeed, Sir, to carry such a mes- 
sage from you to him. 

M. Well, Sir, I will make you more happy still. I 

will pray you to assure Mr. W of my heart's best 

affection, not as a compliment, but with such unfeigned 
sincerity, as one servant of the Redeemer ought to cher- 
ish toward another. 

G. Well, sir, I am exceedingly pleased to be the 
bearer of such a message. 

And thus, as I presume, the way is opened for my 
introduction to this zealous, benevolent, and most un- 
common man. 5 

He further remarks — c I dined yesterday, agreeably to 
promise; many gentlemen were present. But, c by the 
life of Pharaoh, they were all spies. 5 However, I 
treated them as spies in general are treated, when they 
are not hanged. I gave them something to carry away 
with them. ! 

My message has been delivered to Mr. W , with 

which he expressed himself exceedingly pleased. He 
would have met the party collected, had he been 
able; and he expressed a strong desire to see and con- 
verse with me. If requested, I shall certainly visit him. 

I have been, by invitation, to visit Mr. W — ; he 
seems tottering on the verge of another world. I have 
"been edified by his remarks; and although I am not 
united with him in sentiment, in every particular, yet 
we join issue in one glorious and fundamental truth, the 
final restoration of the whole posterity of Adam ; and on 
this ground I hail him as my friend and brother. Our 
interview has been extremely affecting ; he clasped me 
with ardor to his bosom, and dropped such tears, as 
friends are wont to shed, upon meeting each other, after 
a long and painful separation. I anticipate both pleas- 
ure and profit, from associating with this gentleman. — 
[Letters Sketches.] 

The kindness of Mr Murray's feelings towards Mr. 
Winchester is clearly evinced in the following: — 

c Pray, Sir, said an inquirer to me yesterday, pray, Sir, 
did you ever hear Mr. W preach? 

Murray. No, Sir. 

Inquirer. I understand he is turned quite about. 
M. Yes, Sir. 

Inq. He has frequently preached in this place. 
25 



290 



APPENDIX. 



M. So I am told. 

Inq. He was a very violent adversary to the truth. 
M. So I have heard. 

Inq. But he has out-stripped you now, for he preaches 
the salvation of Devils, as well as men. 
M. So I understand. 

Inq. But, is there not as much danger in going beyond, 
as in coming short, of divine revelation? 

M. I rather think not, Sir. Truth, and nothing but 
truth, is, no doubt, greatly to be desired. Yet, it 
appears to me, there is more to be said in favor of him, 
who views the mercy of God as boundless, and thus, as 
a consequence, embraceth every intelligent being; I 
say, such a person deserves more credit, than that indi- 
vidual, whose narrow soul, wholly unacquainted with 
the immensity of divine love, limits the Holy One of 
Israel, to a small number of the human race. Yet, Sir, 
I confess to you, that as the Redeemer passed by the 
nature of angels, and took not upon him their character, 
but the nature and character of humanity, I am willing 
to pass them by also; I conceive I am not called to 
preach to the fallen angels, nor do I aim at being wise 
above what is written. 

Inq. But Mr. W insists upon the restitution of 

all things; is not the restitution of all things a scripture 
doctrine? surely, what is written in scripture, is a scrip- 
ture doctrine. 

M. The restitution of all things is undoubtedly a 
scripture doctrine, and I am far from objecting to the 
will of God, if he should choose to make the crooked 
straight, as well as the rough places smooth. Yet, as I 
said, I do not conceive I am sent to preach to Devils. 
One thing, however, I know; that if God should show 
favor to the deceiver, there can be no doubt of his 
showing favor to the deceived; and although the scrip- 
tures may not, in my view, appear to teach the doctrine 
of salvation, to fallen, angelic sinners, yet, another ser- 
vant of my great Master, under the direction of the 
same spirit, may be permitted to fathom more deeply 
those waters of the sanctuary. 

Inq. Why, I think, you must allow that all things are 
possible with God. 

M. Surely; and I acknowledge it to be an incontro- 
vertible fact, that we know not the extent of his power, 
or of his grace; and wherever I find a person preaching 
Christ Jesus, as the Saviour of the world, he shall have 
my heart, and my hand, nor will I quarrel with him, 



APPENDIX. 



291 



because he thinks too highly of the grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ. 

Inq. Do you know if it be true that Mr. W is a 

preacher of purgatory? 

M. I really do not know what are his views of an 
intermecliate state, as I have an account of this particu- 
lar, only from his enemies. It is said of me, that I take 
a purgatory into my calculations; but my ideas are 
wholly confined to the baptism of Christ, where our 
God as a consuming fire hath purified the whole of his 
inheritance; a knowledge of this fact, purgeth the con- 
science of the individual who receiveth it from dead 
works, to serve the living God; and when this knowl- 
edge is universally communicated, then shall the right- 
eous shine forth, as the sun, in the kingdom of the 
Father. The views of Mr. W are, perhaps, simi- 
lar to mine; at any rate, there are, from the same spirit, 
diversity of gifts: and it is proper that we should cher- 
ish toward each other a spirit of liberality. '-[Lef. 

In a letter to a friend in England, he says — c I be- 
lieve Mr. W. to be a very sincere man, and a very 
warm hearted Christian, I think him in an error — I 
think his plan cannot be supported upon christian princi- 
ples; but he believes it can. I have labored to convince 
him of his error, well persuaded that he would aban- 
don any principle which he could be convinced was 
wrong. But when I hear our divine Master upbraiding 
his immediate disciples, with their hardness of heart 
and unbelief, and yet loving them with an everlasting 
love; when I learn that he hath compassion on the ig- 
norant, and upon those who are out of the way, I am 
ashamed of the reserves which I experience toward 
those who differ from me in sentiment. 5 

6 Since I last wrote to you, 5 he said in a letter to 
Rev. Noah Parker of Portsmouth N. H. c I have 
seen and conversed with the Rev. Mr. Winches- 
ter. I admire him much; his conduct and expressions 
evince one of the best hearts I have known. I have con- 
ceived a very strong affection for him, and to the con- 
fusion of the enemies of the gospel of God our Savior, 
a very large number of respectable hearers have seen 
him and your friend enter the pulpit together. Mr. 

W sang, and addressed the throne of grace, and, by 

his request, I preached. A greater part of his congre- 
gation are enemies to me, because, in their judgment, 
f do not sufficiently expatiate upon inward holiness; for, 
although they call themselves Universalists, yet Christ 



292 



APPENDIX. 



is not sufficient for them;, but I have preached to their 
preacher in private, and I have the satisfaction to pro- 
nounce, that he receives the grace of God with avidity. 
—(Letters and Sketches, Vol, 2. jp. 112, 113.) 

The following is a Sermon by Mr. Murray, delivered 
before the first meeting of the general convention of 
Universalists, convened at Oxford, Mass. September, 
1785. The c beloved friend,' to whose exposition of the 
gospel he alluded, was Mr. Winchester. 

• 

e Our beloved friend, and very dear brother, having 
given you a clear view of the gospel, has referred to me 
the consideration of the apostolic affirmation — c But 
though we, or an angel from heaven preach unto youany 
other gospel, than that which we have preached unto you, 
let him be accursed.* Suppose, for example, we who 
have now preached that you are redeemed from the 
curse of the law, in consequence of Jesus being made a 
curse for you; that you who, being unrighteous, could 
in such a character have no inheritance in that kingdom,, 
which the unrighteous cannot inherit, are now heirs, 
joint heirs with Christ, according to promise, in the 
fulfilment of that prophecy, c The name whereby he 
shall be called is the Lord our righteousness ;' that we 
who have sinned, and on whom, as sinners, the sentence 
had passed — 6 The soul that sinneth shall die;' shall 
live and not die, not in consequence of making void the 
law, but in consequence of Jesus dying for us, and that 
in such a way, chat his death was,, in the eye of infinite 
truth and justice, considered our death; so that con- 
strained by the love of God, we judge that if one died 
for all, then all are dead; and that the just, thus dying 
for the unjust, was to bring them to God, and that being- 
thus brought to God, he hath accepted us in the Belov- 
ed; and that we are complete in him; and that the just 
God, who hath accepted us in our head, will in no wise 
cast us out; and that he hath appointed a day, in the 
which he will judge the world in righteousness not by 
themselves; the apostle would not dare to judge himself 
by himself, but by that man whom he hath ordained* 
not only to be the judge of quick and dead, but also to 
be a Prince and a Savior; to give repentance to tho 
impenitent, and remission of sins to the offender. That 
your transgressions are blotted out, and your iniquities 
pardoned. That when we all like sheep had gone astray ^ 



APPENDIX. 293 

every one to his own way, the Lord laid upon the Re- 
deemer the iniquities of us all, and that having suffered 
for our sins, and put them away by the sacrifice of him- 
self, God is now a reconciled God, not imputing unto 
the world their trespasses; having made the humanity 
of Christ sin for us, that we maybe made the righteous- 
ness of God in him. 

6 Suppose, I say, that we who have thus, by the grace 
of God, authorised by divine authority, preached this 
true, this everlasting gospel, should, through the muta- 
bility of our nature, and that dreadful propensity in our 
evil hearts to turn aside as a broken bow, from the mark 
of the prize of our high calling in Christ Jesus — suppose 
we should preach unto you another gospel, assuring you 
that your oivn obedience to the righteous law must 
exempt you from the curse denounced against law- 
breakers, or you would never be exempted; that you 
must be distinguished from the rest of mankind, who 
are unrighteous, by a change wrought in yourselves, so 
that you may be so fully convinced you are not like 
other men, that you may be able in the presence of God, 
to thank him for his discriminating grace, or you never 
can have any legal or just claim to an inheritance in the 
kingdom of God, and of Christ — that sinners not thus 
changed, and made righteous, must assuredly die the 
death, and the unjust assuredly suffer in their own per- 
sons, for their own sins, before they can be brought to 
God; and that should they approach him previous to 
this change, he will assuredly cast them out into the fire 
prepared for the devil and his angels — For that although 
Jesus died for sinners, yet his death in the sight of 
infinite justice was not the death of the sinner, and that 
the sentence passed on the sinner is still in full force; 
the soul that sinneth shall die — That we are not accepted 
in the beloved, nor complete in him; and that therefore 
the just God hath appointed a day in the which he will 
judge the world in righteousness, by that righteous 
law which condemns the offender to everlasting perdi- 
tion, and sets the obedient free — That on that day the 
sinners of mankind will find that their transgressions 
are not pardoned; that their iniquities were not blotted 
out; that they were not laid upon Jesus; or if they 
were, that he did not put them away; that he performed 
no more than was performed by the sacrifices under the 
Mosaic dispensation; putting them away and yet leav- 
ing the people still in guilt, and under condemnation; 
and that, consequently, God is not, cannot be reconciled 
25* 



294 



APPENDIX. 



unto the world; nor ever will be until they are first tec* 
onciled unto him; that he really does still impute unto 
them their trespasses; and that although it may in some 
sense be true that Jesus was made sin for them, yet we 
cannot think that sinners, black with crimes in them- 
selves, can be made the righteousness of God in him. 

c If, I say, we, or an angel from heaven, should 
preach a gospel so different from that already declared 
to you, let him be accursed. Let him be considered in 
the same point of view, with respect to the gospel, that 
the Jews considered the ignorant Gentiles with respect 
to the law— let those who know not the law be accursed. 

c But should it be asked how, with what propriety,, 
can the preaching you thus describe, be termed gospel, 
since gospel is literally glad tidings, or good news? 
We answer, The apostle did not consider this testimony 
gospel; his sentiments were the reverse of this testi- 
mony; he only speaks of it as the first believers, who 
being zealous for the law, spake of the soul-perverting 
doctrine they preached. They called their preaching 
gospel-preaching; and for the purpose of making it ap- 
pear in some sort consistent with the name, they 
declared unto the people glad tidings; that in conse- 
quence of the descent of Jesus Christ upon this our 
globe, we may now be saved, and it is entirely our own 
fault if we be not; that we have not the same law, in 
all its fulness to obey that the Jews had; that many of 
the ceremonies are taken out of the way; that God now 
only requires us to keep his commandments , to do jus- 
tice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God; and 
should we, through the imbecility of our nature, err 
from the path of rectitude, we being able to appeal to 
God, that it was not willingly or by design, the Media- 
tor will, in such circumstances, intercede for us; and 
on our repentance and reformation, we shall be taken 
into favour. Thus, although the law be indeed broken, 
and your souls have sinned, yet to such favorites we 
bring glad tidings; you shall not die, nor suffer the curse 
of a broken law. 

What although the unrighteous cannot inherit eternal 
life, yet behold we bring unto you glad tidings: you 
may be righteous if you will; for Jesus came into the 
world to show you, by his bright example, what you 
must do if you would be righteous; which but for his 
appearance you never could have known; and not only 
so, but if you will only see, and be in love with this 
divine pattern, and do all in your power to imitate him, 



APPENDIX. 



whenever you find yourself through human weakness, 
unable to attain to his likeness, he will, if you continu- 
ally call upon him, help you ; nay, he will work in you 
to will and to do; behold therefore we bring you glad 
tidings; you will have all the reward and commenda- 
tion, as if you had by your own inherent strength, 
wrought out your own salvation. 

Thus, if by close attention to the rules laid down in 
the precepts of the law, and the example of Jesus Christ 
you attain to righteousness, you shall not be condemned 
with sinners; but when God shall say to them, Depart 
ye cursed into everlasting fire, he shall say to you. 
Come ye blessed of my Father; while to the sinner he 
says, Thou wicked servant, thou shouldst have put my 
money to usury, he will say to you who have kept his 
commandments, Well done, thou good and faithful ser- 
vant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. 

But as this does not seem glad tidings to every crea- 
ture, we would say to the unjust, who must suffer for 
their sins, that their sufferings shall finally bring them 
to God; that when they have suffered as much as the 
justice of God can demand, so that on scrutinizing the 
account, it will appear that the sinner has paid the ut- 
termost farthing ; then they shall come forth from the 
deep dungeon, where by the grace of Jesus Christ they 
have been enabled to suffer so much, and give glory to 
him, who by suffering so much in his own person, ren- 
dered it possible for them to obtain salvation by their 
own deeds and sufferings. 

Thus shall all finally be happy; although not all pre- 
cisely in the same way. Some shall attain endless 
felicity by obedience to the law, and others by suffering 
the pains and penalties annexed to the breach of the 
law. What then becomes of the finished redemption 
wrought out by the Redeemer of men ? Yet it is easy 
to prove that this testimony is gospel; but it must be 
confessed that there is as much difference between the 
two gospels, as between heaven above and earth be- 
neath; and such who are under the influence of the 
spirit of this world, merely of the earth, earthy, will 
undoubtedly prefer the latter gospel; while such who 
are under the influence of his spirit who says, I am 
from above; my kingdom is not of this world; and who 
consequently see their treasure in heaven, and nothing 
which merits the name of durable riches and righteous- 
ness any where else; so that they can with truth say, 
when they ask whom have I in heaven but thee ? there 



APPENDIX. 



is nothing on earth I desire beside thee. Persons of 
this description will give the preference to Paul's gos- 
pel; and continuing under the influence of that spirit 
which taketh of the things of Jesus, and showeth them 
unto the soul, they will assuredly follow the apostolic 
direction in all things, delighting to imitate his exam- 
ple, and determining to know nothing save Christ Jesus, 
and him crucified* g God forbid, 5 they exclaim, 6 God 
forbid that we should glory, save in the cross of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto 
us, and we unto the world. 5 Yea, doubtless, and they 
count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowl- 
edge of Christ Jesus their Lord, for whom they would 
gladly suffer the loss of all things. They desire, ear- 
nestly desire, to be found in the Redeemer, not having 
their own righteousness which is of the law, but that 
which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness 
which is of God by faith. They believe it to be life 
eternal to know God and Jesus Christ whom he hath 
sent. They listen to the voice of the Lord, who saith, 
Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let 
the mighty man glory in his might, nor the rich man in 
his riches. But let him that glorieth, glory in this, that 
he understandeth and knoweth me; that I am the Lord 
which exercise loving-kindness, judgment and right- 
eousness in the earth; for in these things I delight, 
saith the Lord. 

The believers of Paul's gospel, uniformly consider 
themselves as complete in Christ Jesus; they know that 
the Redeemer alone hath collected the materials; that 
he alone will build the temple ; bringing forth the head- 
stone thereof with shoutings crying, c Grace, grace unto 
iV— Letters, fyc. ii. 118 — 122. 

From the foregoing extracts it will be seen that Mr. 
Murray was conscious of the fact, that Mr. Winches- 
ter's opinions differed from his own in many respects, 
and in relation to points of doctrine concerning which 
he was tenacious. Still, he manifested, and doubtless 
felt, a pure friendship for Mr. W. personally, and ap- 
preciated his highly useful labors — estimating them, and 
the sentiments taught by him, by their tendency to aug- 
ment the sum of human happiness. The conduct of 
these great and good men may be commended to all, as 
worthy of imitation, and especially to the serious con- 
sideration of such as profess to have embraced the doc- 
trines which they inculcated. 



APPENDIX. 



297 



The following ingenious arrangement of scripture 
passages may be interesting to the reader, and it is sub- 
joined as an evidence of Mr. Murray's confidence in 
the views which he so zealously promulgated. 

ALL THE SACRED WRITERS UN1VERSALISTS. 

I have no doctrine, but the doctrine taught by God 
the Savior. I reject every doctrine, which the mouth 
of the Lord hath not spoken. The apostolic churches 
were formed by professors of the doctrine of universal 
redemption. Jesus Christ, and his apostles, preached 
and defended this doctrine. All the writers of Revela- 
tion were strong in the faithful belief of the doctrine of 
Universal Salvation; so saith the Apostle Peter, when 
speaking of the world's Redeemer. 6 The heavens 
must receive him, until the restitution of all things, 
which God hath spoken by the mouth of all his holy 
prophets, since the world began.' How much is 
contained in this single testimony of the Apostle. Yes, 
indeed, God blessed Abraham, and said, in thee shall all 
nations of the earth be blessed. 

Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, believed God, and were 
therefore Universalists. And the Lord said, I have 
pardoned according to thy word. But as truly as I live, 
all the earth shall be filled with the glory of the Lord. 
Numbers xiv. 20, 21. Moses believed God, and was 
therefore a Universalist. 

All the ends of the world shall remember, and turn 
unto the Lord, and all the kindred of the nations shall 
worship before thee, for the kingdom is the Lord's. 
All they that go down to the dust shall bow before him. 
Psalm xxii. 27, 28, 29. c Let the people praise thee, O 
God, let all the people praise thee.' 

6 All nations shall call him blessed, and let the whole 
earth be filled with his glory, amen, and amen.' Psalm 
lxxii. 8, 17, 19. 

( All nations whom thou hast made, shall come and 
worship before thee, O Lord, and shall glorify thy 
name. 3 Psalm lxxxvi. 9. 

c My mouth shall speak the praise of the Lord, and 
let all flesh bless his holy name forever and ever. 3 
Psalm cxliv. 21. 

Thus it appears that the Royal Prophet was a strong 
Universalist, 

* They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy 



298 



APPENDIX. 



mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge 
of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. 5 Isaiah xi. 9. 
c And in this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make 
unto all people, a feast of fat things. And he will 
destroy, in this mountain, the face of the covering cast 
over all people; the veil that is spread over all nations; 
he will swallow up death in victory. And the Lord 
God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the 
rebuke of his people will he take from off all the earth, 
for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it. 5 xxx. 6, 8. 

All this, no doubt, Isaiah fully believed. Isaiah, 
therefore, was a Universalist. 

c Behold the clays come, saith the Lord, that I will 
perform that good thing which I have promised to the 
house of Israel, and to the house of Judah. 5 See also 
Jer. xxxi. 31, 34. 

Jeremiah, in full assurance that God would perform 
what he promised, was unquestionably a Universalist. 

i When thy sister Sodom and her daughters shall re- 
turn to their former estate, and Samaria and her daugh- 
ters shall return to their former estate, Then thou and 
thy daughters shall return to thy former estate. 5 Eze- 
kiel xvi. 55. 

Sodom and her daughters were those who suffered 
the vengeance of eternal fire. But the prophet Ezekiel, 
being a Universalist, was persuaded they would not be 
eternally suffering the vengeance of eternal fire. 

c Pharaoh shall see them, and be comforted over all 
his multitude; even Pharaoh and all his army slain by 
the sword, saith the Lord. 5 Ezekiel xxxii. 31. 

c Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and you 
shall be clean from all your filthiness, and from all your 
idols will I cleanse you. Then the heathen that are 
left round about you, shall know that I the Lord build 
the ruined places. 5 Ezekiel xxxvi. 25, 36. 

Thus we see Ezekiel, in declaring the salvation of 
Jew and Heathen, was a Universaiist. 

1 Seventy weeks are determined upon thy people, 
and upon thy holy city, to finish the transgression, and 
to make an end of sin, and to make reconciliation for 
iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteousness. 5 
Daniel ix. 24. Surely Daniel was a very strong Uni- 
versalist. 

i ¥~et the number of the children of Israel shall be as 
the sand of the sea shore that cannot be measured or 
numbered; and it shall come to pass, that in the place 
where it was said unto them, ye are not my people^ 



APPENDIX. 



299 



there it shall be said unto them, ye are the sons of the 
living God. 5 Hosea i. 10. c And I will sow her unto 
me in the earth, and I will have mercy on her that had 
not obtained mercy, and I will say to them which were 
not my people, thou art my people, and they shall say, 
thou art my God. 5 Hosea ii. 23. Was not Hosea a 
Universalist? 

i And it shall come to pass afterwards, that I will 
pour out my spirit upon all flesh, 5 &c. Joel ii. 28. 
c For I will cleanse their blood, that I have not cleansed. 5 
Joel iii. 21. 

c In that day I will raise up the tabernacle of David, 
that is fallen, and close up the breaches thereof, that 
they may possess the remnant of all Edom, and of the 
heathen, which are called by my name, saith the Lord, 
that cloeth this. 5 Amos ix. 11, 12. 

c And Saviors shall come upon Mount Zion, to judge 
the mount of Esau, and the kingdom shall be the Lord's. 5 
Obadiah 21. 

' And he shall judge among many people, and rebuke 
strong nations afar off, and they shall beat their swords 
into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks. 
Nation shall not lift up a sword against nation, neither 
shall they learn war any more. But they shall sit 
every man under his vine, and under his fig-tree, and 
none shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord 
hath spoken it. 55 Micah, iv. 3, 4. ( He will turn again, 
he will have compassion upon us, he will subdue all our 
iniquities, and thou wilt cast all our sins into the depths 
of the sea. Thou wilt perform the truth to Jacob, and 
the mercy to Abraham, which thou hast sworn unto our 
fathers, from the days of old. 5 Micah vii. 19, 20. Thus 
it is plain, the prophets were all Universalists. 

But the angels of God are also Universalists. Let 
us listen to these messengers of heaven, while addressing 
the wondering shepherds of Judea. c And the angel 
said unto them, Fear not, behold I bring you good 
tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people; and 
suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the 
heavenly host, praising God, and saying, Glory be to 
God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will 
towards men. 5 Luke ii. 10, 14. 

The devout Simeon was a Universalist. e For mine 
eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared 
before the face of all people, a light to lighten the Gen- 
tiles, and the glory of thy people Israel. 5 Luke ii. 30, 
81, 32. 



300 



APPENDIX. 



But, that we may ascertain what all the evangelists 
and all the apostles were, in one view, let us hear the 
sentiments of our Savior himself, upon this subject. 
c For I have given unto them the words which thou 
gavest me, and they have received them. 5 John xvii. 
8. e For I have not spoken of myself, but the Father 
which sent me; he gave me a commandment, what I 
should say, and what I should speak, and I know that 
this commandment is life everlasting. Whatsoever I 
speak, therefore, even as the Father said unto me, so I 
speak. 3 John xii. 49, 50. See also ver. 32. 

Let us now attend to the ministry committed to the 
apostle. c God was in Christ, reconciling the world 
unto himself, not imputing unto them their trespasses.' 
2 Corinthians v. 19. c And he shall send Jesus Christ, 
who before was preached unto you, whom the heavens 
must receive, until the times of the restitution of all 
things, which God hath spoken by the mouth of all his 
holy prophets, ever since the world began. 5 Acts iii. 21. 

It is plain, from these testimonies, and many more 
which might be adduced, that the doctrine of Universal- 
ism is the doctrine of God our Saviour; and while the 
Universalists can produce so many illustrious vouchers, 
they never can be discomfited, or even embarrassed. — 
Letters, $c. ii. 422—425. 



ADDENDA. 



mr. Murray's account op his visit to the place 
where he first landed, after the death of his 
beloved friend and patron, thomas potter. 

'My ride to this place has been very disagreeable, 
the heat so intense and the sand so deep, and no hospit- 
able friend P in view dear, honored friend, the 

first patron with which I was blessed in this new world, 
how indulgent wert thou to me, — with how much 
benevolence didst thou cherish me, when a stranger in 
thy mansion, and how didst thou labor for my advance- 
ment. 

c Many aged persons, who were in the habit of attend- 
ing my labors, have visited me. They express their 
honest sensibility in a variety of ways; but all are over- 
joyed to see me; they are solicitous to pour into my 
ear the story of their accumulated sufferings; they im- 
agine they shall reap pleasure from commiseration; yet 
what, alasl can helpless pity do? There is, however, 
much pleasure in communicating our sorrows to a sym- 
pathizing friend. 

c I am now in the house that once belonged to the 
venerable P , to my friend P I am not how- 
ever an occupant of the same apartment which he fitted 
up for my use, and directed me to consider as my own; 
that apartment, and the greater part of the house, is 
devoted to those who loved not him, and knew not me. 
Alas! what is this world! how often we thus exclaim, 
thus ask, because we imagine it is not what it should 
be; were it under our direction it would be better man- 
aged; but it is not nor ever will be— One thing is certain, 
on life there is little or no dependence — This dear man, 
this American £ man of ross,' was suddenly snatched 
from the scenes of time, deprived instantly of reason, 
and in a few hours of life. c His soul proud science 
never taught to stray.' But he was a gem of the first 



302 



ADDENDA. 



quality, and notwithstanding the crust, which from his 
birth enfolded him, yet by the rubs he suffered from the 
pebbles among which he was placed, this crust was so 
far broken, as to emit, upon almost every occasion, the 
native splendor of his intellect. Had this man in early 
life received the culture of nature's hand-maid, what a 
luminous figure he would have made ! But the God of 
nature had stamped upon his soul the image of himself, 
unbounded benevolence. 

c I reached this place yesterday evening, the sun w T as 
just setting and as I passed through the well-known 
fields, and saw them rich and flourishing in all the pride 
of nature. I felt an irrational kind of anger glow at my 
heart, that those fields should look so exceeding gay, 
when their master had taken an everlasting leave of 
every terrestrial scene. The depression upon my 
spirits, as 1 reached the house, was indescribable; I 
beheld one, and another, whose faces I had never before 
seen. An ugly mastiff growled at me as I passed; and 
this is the first time, said I, that I was ever growled at, 
in this place, by any of thy kind; but he was soon 
silenced by a lad, who was brought up by my friend. 
< Lord bless me — Is not this Mr. Murray ? 5 Why, Matt, 
do you remember me? c Remember you, Sir — remem- 
ber Mr. Murray — yes, indeed, Sir.' This dog does 
not, Matt. ! c But he would if he had lived in master's 
time; but he is a stranger.' They are all strangers, 
Matt., are they not? 'Indeed they are all, but my 
mistress and myself.' And where is your mistress, 
Matt.? C I will call her, Sir.' No, my good lad, not 
yet; what have you for my horse ? c Nothing but grass. 5 

Nothing at Mr. P 's but grass? £ Ah! sir, it is not 

now the house of Mr. P .' True, true, true. Leave 

me, my good lad, leave me. 

( I walked round the house, entered every avenue, 
looked at my garden; it was made for me; the trees, 
the flowering shrubs have run wild, and the whole sur- 
face of the spot is covered with weeds. This pleased 
me; just so I would have it. 

This is the tree planted by my own hand; how flour- 
ishing! But where is the other, planted directly oppo- 
site at the same moment, by my friend? alas! like its 
planter, dead! On this very spot I first saw the phi- 
lanthropist — Can you assist me, Sir? c Yes, Sir. On 
what terms ?' * I receive no payment, Sir. He who 
gave to me did not charge me any thing; you are wel- 
come at the price.' — Here our acquaintance com- 



ADDENDA. 



308 



rnenced — but it is ended, at least in the present state. 
I shall see him no more on this side eternity. On this 
seat we sat, and there the tear of transport rolled down 
his furrowed cheek, when we conversed upon that re- 
demption which is in Christ Jesus. Under that oak 
we have frequently sat, contemplating the shadow from 
the heat, the hiding place from the storm. At yonder 
gate he bid me farewell, and wiped his venerable eye; 
at yonder gate I turned, he waved his hand, c God Al- 
mighty bless you; you will come again; forget not your 
friends, your ancient friend.' If I do, said my heart, 
may my right hand forget its cunning. But I forgot 
thee, good old man, too long I forgot thee! and now 
that I am at last returned, thou art not here to bid me, 
in the politest, that is in the sincerest manner, wel- 
come. 

c Mrs. P approached; she lifted up her hands 

and eyes in speechless anguish, seated herself, changed 
color — no matter — the worst is past. I have visited the 
meeting-house reared by his hand for the worship of 
his God. It is embosomed in a grove of stately oaks, 
all trimmed and in beautiful order — under this shade 
reposeth the man, by whom the house was raised, by 
whom the grove was planted. I beheld his grave; it 
was not a marble, a hard marble that informed me 
whose dust lay there, it was a feeling mechanic, who, 
having experienced much kindness from the deceased, 
wept when he told me that spot contained the dead. 

1 carefully examined the grave, to see if any weeds 

grew there. — No, no, they had no business there. I 
could not pluck a noxious nettle from his grave: there 
grew upon it a few wild flowers, emblematic of the 
mind that once inhabited this insensate clay. At the 
foot of the grave stands the most majestic and flourish- 
ing of all the oaks which surround the grave; it was 
once on the point of falling a sacrifice to the axe-man, 
but my friend solicited for its continuance, pronouncing 
that it would flourish when he should sleep beside it; 
and having thus rescued it, added my informant, he 
has since paid it particular attention, which is the rea- 
son of its so far surpassing the other trees. 

c Peace, peace to thy spirit, thou friendly, feeling, 
faithful man; thy dust is laid up to rest, near the house 
thou didst build for God, but thy spirit rests with God 
in the house built by him for thee, and though our dust 
may not meet again, our spirits will meet and rejoice 
together, in those regions of blessedness, where pain 



S04 



ADDENDA, 



can find no entrance, where death can no more usurp 
dominion, where no tear of sorrow shall ever dim the 
joy-brightened eye, for we shall part no more forever. 
I said there was no nettle on this grave: one thing, 
however, was very remarkable; a gourd had crept 
along until it came to, and spread over his grave, mix- 
ing its foliage with the sweet-scented flowers that grew 
thereon. 

c Never was place better calculated for melancholy 
musing than this spot, so thick the grove around; the 
little neat grave-yard at the end, the shutters of the 
house for public worship all closed up, the lonely situ- 
ation inviting the birds, their music serves to mellow 
the scene; all, all, is most truly for solemn meditation 
fit. 

c By the following article in the will of my deceased 
friend, this house of worship becomes my property. 

cc The house built by me for the worship of God, it is 
my will that God be worshipped in it still, and for this 
purpose I will that my ever dear friend, Mr. John 
Murray, preacher of the gospel shall possess it, having 
the sole direction, disposal and management of said 
house, and one acre of land upon which it stands, and 
by which it is surrounded." 

c In this house of worship I have once more preached. 
It is full two years since divine service has been per- 
formed there. I selected for my subject, 1 Corinthians 
ri. 20; c For ye are bought with a price: therefore glo- 
rify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are 
God's.'— [Letters and Sketches, vol. 1. pp. 334—340.] ! 

In closing the discourse delivered on that solemn and 
most deeply interesting occasion, Mr. Murray paid the 
following tribute to the memory of his early friend, 
whose place of repose could be seen from the desk 
where he then stood, and where he first dispensed the 
word of life, on his arrival in this country. 

c Through yonder open casement, I behold the grave 
of a man, the recollection of whom swells my heart 
with gratitude, and fills my eyes with tears. There 
sleeps the sacred dust of him who well understood the 
advantages resulting from the public worship of the 
true God. There rests the ashes of him who glorified 
God in his body, and in his spirit, which he well knew 
were the Lord's. He believed he was bought with a 
price, and therefore he declared that all he was, and 
had, were righteously due to the God who had created, 
and purchased him with a price, all price beyond. 



ADDENDA. 



305 



There rests the precious dust of the friend of strangers, 
whose hospitable doors were ever open to the destitute, 
and him who had none to relieve his sufferings. I 
myself was once thrown on these shores a desolate 
stranger, this Christian man brought me to his habita- 
tion. God, (said he,) hath blessed me, he has given 
me more than a competency, and he has given me a 
heart to devote myself and all that I have, to him. I 
have built a place for his name and worship; 1 would, 
continued the faithful man, erect this temple myself, 
with what God had given me. My neighbors would 
have lent their aid, but I refused assistance from any 
one. I would myself build the house, that God might 
be worshipped without contention, without interrup- 
tion, that he might be worshipped by all whom he should 
vouchsafe to send. 

c This elegant house, my friends, the first friends who 
hailed my arrival in this country, this elegant house, 
with its adjoining grove, is yours. The faithful found- 
er bequeathed it to me, that none of you may be 
deprived of it. His dust reposes close to this monu- 
ment of his piety; he showed you by his life, what it 
was to glorify God iu body and spirit; and he has left 
you this house that you may assemble here together, 
listen to the voice, and unite to chant the praises of 
the God who created, who has bought you with a price, 
and who will preserve you. 

c Dear faithful man, when last I stood in this place, 
he was present among the assembly of the people. I 
marked his glistening eye; it always glistened at the 
emphatic name of Jesus. — Even now I behold in imag- 
ination his venerable countenance; benignity is seated 
on his brow, his mind is apparently open and confiding; 
tranquility reposeth upon his features, and the express- 
ion of each varying emotion evinceth that faith which 
is the parent of enduring peace, of that peace which 
passeth understanding. 

6 Let us, my friends, imitate his philanthropy, his 
piety, his charity. I may never again meet you, until 
we unite to swell the loud hallelujahs before the throne 
of God. But to hear of your faith, of your persever- 
ance, of your brotherly love, of your works of charity, 
will heighten my enjoyments, and soothe my sorrows, 
even to the verge of my mortal pilgrimage. Accept my 
prayers in your behalf, and let us unite to supplicate 
our common God and Father, for the mighty blessing 
of his protection. 5 — [Letters and Sketches, vol. 1. p. 341.] 
26* 



306 



ADDENDA. 



PARTICULARS IN RELATION TO MR. POTTER THE 

CHURCH ERECTED BY HIM, &,C. 

It has been already intimated that Mr. Murray seems 
to have been sustained and directed by a particular prov- 
idence. The truth of the account which he has left us of 
his reception by the warm-hearted Potter, has been, by 
some, deemed improbable ; but those who have taken 
pains to make themselves acquainted with the facts con- 
nected with his history in relation to the events of that 
period, have found conclusive proof of the correctness 
of the text. Since the visit of Murray to Potter's 
meeting house, noticed above, no minister of our de- 
nomination had visited the hallowed spot, until October, 
1832. At that time, Rev. Abel C. Thomas, of Philadel- 
phia, visited Good Luck, and preached in the pulpit 
where Murray first lifted up his voice as a herald of 
the cross, on the shores of America. The following 
account of his visit to that place cannot fail to interest 
the reader. In allusion to the facts mentioned in chap, 
v. of this edition, Mr. Thomas observes — 

cc Were all these circumstances the result of chance? 
No. The confidence of Potter that the vessel he saw 
enter the Inlet contained the minister of whose coming, 
in due season, he had not the shadow of a doubt — his 
solemn conviction that Murray was the man, and that 
the wind would not change until the message from God 
was delivered — these things, considered in connexion 
with the result, firmly persuade me that the directing 
hand of Divine Providence is visible in the whole train 
of events. Let others believe differently, if they can — 
I cannot. 

c Murray returned to the hospitable abode of his friend 
and patron, and preached for a considerable time. In 
the conscientious discharge of his ministerial functions, 
he occasionally visited the regions round about ; until, 
at length, he settled at Boston. 

c In Murray's c Letters and Sketches of Sermons, 5 
Vol. i. Letter II, we have a very touching account of 
the preacher's last visit, after several years absence, to 
the neighborhood in which he first proclaimed the good 
tidings of salvation in this country. His friend and the 
friend of humanity had departed to the land of the liv- 
ing on high. His memory will ever be dear to every 
Universalist who has heard of his virtues ; and children 
for generations to come, will be taught to lisp with 



ADDENDA. 



gratitude and reverence the name of the venerable 
friend of God. 

c I had long felt a desire to visit the region where 
events transpired of so much interest to every believer 
in the doctrine of universal grace — but did not find op- 
portunity for so doing until recently. I have just re- 
turned — and purpose presenting a brief account of my 
visit, believing it will be found not wholly unworthy of 
attention, and that it may afford some satisfaction to 
the elder contemporaries of Murray in particular, and 
to our denomination in general. 

c Cranberry Inlet was situated about 60 miles East of 
Philadelphia. I say ivas — for it was entirely filled up 
with sand many years ago, and the beach is now as 
high at that place as at any other in the vicinity, though 
not so wide. 

c I visited the house in which Potter lived and died. — 
It is situated-Jess than half a mile east of Good Luck. 
An addition has been built to it, and the appearance of 
the whole exterior is changed, but the interior remains 
as it was in the days of Potter. It is a plain, substan- 
tial building. I have been invited to make it my home 
when next I visit the neighborhood. 

c The meeting-house stands in the edge of a beautiful 
wood. The exterior presents an aged appearance, but 
the interior, constructed of the best cedar, manifests no 
signs of decay. The c large square pew,' (of which 
Murray speaks) long occupied by Potter and his family, 
was removed about a year ago, and plain benches sub- 
stituted. The pulpit has been somewhat cut down at 
either end. In other respects the building remains in 
its original state. It was left by will to John Murray, 
for the use of all denominations. By the mismanage- 
ment of the executor, it became necessary to sell a part 
of the estate, to pay certain demands against it — of the 
injustice of which, however, the heirs entertained no 
doubt. In disposing of the property contiguous to Good 
Luck, no reservation of the meeting-house was made 
in the deed. It was subsequently purchased by the 
Methodist society, who have it now in possession. — 
Should they hereafter evince an exclusive spirit in re- 
lation to its occupancy, their title may justly be called 
in question. 

c Thomas Potter died nearly fifty years ago. His 
grave, at the east end of the meeting-house, was pointed 
out to me bv one of the oldest inhabitants in the neigh- 
borhood. Owing to inattention and the sandy nature 



308 



ADDENDA. 



of the soil, it was long ago levelled with the adjacent 
ground. It was enclosed soon after his burial — but the 
fence was broken down some twenty years ago — and 
two posts and a rail, very much decayed, are all that 
remain. The oak of which Murray speaks, ('Sketch- 
es,' vol. i. p. 336) no longer exists. I have obtained 
permission to reinclose the grave, and erect a tomb- 
stone to his memory. 

c On Sunday morning, 7th inst. I stood in the desk 
where Murray first lifted up his voice in this country as 
a herald of the cross. I will not attempt a description 
of my feelings on that occasion. They ma}' be imag- 
ined — they cannot be described. In imagination, I saw 
the joy-glistening eye of the venerable Potter, and 
heard the words of salvation flowing from the lips of 
the man of God. I fancied the darkness of the past in 
contrast with the brightness of the present ; and, by 
the eye of faith, I beheld Murray and Potter smiling in 
regions of glory on the prosperity of the divine testi- 
mony in which they believed and rejoiced. My heart 
was melted in gratitude and love ; and I felt a fervent 
desire that He in whose strength the weak are made 
strong, would ever be with me in the ministrations of 
the word, inspire my soul with an ever-growing zeal in 
the cause of my Master, and make of me an humble 
instrument in spreading the knowledge of salvation in 
the name of the once crucified and glorified Redeemer. 

c I felt freedom to select as the subject of my discourse, 
the language recorded in Isaiah lii : 7 — c How beautiful 
upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good 
tidings, that publisheth peace, that bringeth good tidings 
of good, that publisheth salvation, that saith unto Zion, 
thy God reigneth.' 

C I found afeio individuals in that neighborhood, (as 
also at Tarns River, 8 miles north, where I delivered 
two discourses,) who had listened, in their youth, to 
the preaching of Murray — and who, I have reason to 
believe, have long cherished in their souls, c the faith 
once delivered to the saints. 5 The people, generally 
speaking, yielded devout attention to the sentiments ad- 
vanced, and many received the word gladly. 

e I must not forget to mention, that several aged per- 
sons with whom I conversed, remembered having 
heard the circumstances related by Murray in his 
c Life 5 — but time was rapidly defacing the impression. 

c I am particularly desirous that something should be 
done for the building up of Zion in the neighborhood 



ADDENDA. 



309 



of Potter's Meeting-house. If what Murray planted 
be duly watered, the increase will not be withholden. 
Should nothing farther transpire to prevent than is now 
foreseen, it is expected a Universalist Conference will 
be held in that vicinity next spring or summer — of 
which due notice will be given.' ; 

In accordance with the intimation given in the last 
paragraph of the preceding extract, a Universalist 
Conference was holden in Potter's Meeting-House, May 
15, 1833. Present, Brothers Thomas, Andrews, Saw- 
yer, Hillyer, and Moore — and an equal number of lay- 
men. Rtchard Norton, of Hightstown, N. J. was 
chosen Moderator, and A. C. Thomas, of Philadelphia, 
Clerk. As the principal object of the conference was, 
to effect, if possible, a renovation of gospel faith in that 
part of the Lord's heritage, little business was laid be- 
fore the council. Some difficulty having been experi- 
enced in obtaining the use of the meeting-house, the 
brethren proposed to purchase of the methodist society, 
who now hold the property, a right to occupy it one 
day in each and every year. And although the Metho- 
dist brethren were not then prepared to meet the prop- 
dsition, it is hoped that such an arrangement will yet 
be effected.* There is a growing interest manifested 
in that neighborhood, in favor of the doctrine of uni- 
versal, efficient grace: and it is believed that the Trus- 
tees of the meeting-house, (though opposed to univer^ 
salisrn,) will not long feel disposed to refuse the use of 
it to those who rejoice, as did Potter and Murray, in 
the salvation of the whole family of man. 

The congregation's assembled to attend public wor- 
ship, were not large, but devout attention was given to 
the testimony delivered. Four sermons were preached. 

* It was thought best to attempt purchasing the right referred 
to — notwithstanding it is believed that there is no legal authority to 
prevent the occupancy of the house by any denomination of Christ^ 
ians. 



310 ADDENDA. 

A tomb-stone, provided by A. C. Thomas, was erect- 
ed in memory of Thomas Potter. The following is the 
inscription : 

In Memory 

OF 

THOMAS POTTER, 
The 

Friend and Patron 

OF 

JOHN MURRAY, 
An early Advocate of Universalism 
in America. 



" Have ive not all one Father? " 



Erected May 15, 1833. 

After the tomb-stone was erected, and the grave sod- 
ded, an address was delivered by Br. Thomas, and the 
following hymn, composed for the occasion was 
sung : — 

To Thee, O God, we humbly bow — 

The halo of thy truth unveil; 
And give us all to feel that Thou 

In Gospel grace will here prevail. 

O may our hearts in union feel 

The quick'ning of the mystic dove; 

Be nerved our souls with holy zeal 
To spread abroad Immanuel's love: 

And tho 5 in silence rest the bones 
Of Potter, 'ueath this verdant sod, 

O may we hear the spirit tones 

Of Murray's friend, the friend of God! 



ADDENDA. 



311 



Like him, may we fore'er confide 

In Thee and in Thy boundless grace, 

Believing Thou wilt e'er provide 
All needed good for all our race. 

Around, before Thy truth, we see 

Rebellion, sin and error fall; 
And joy that Thou at last wilt be 

Acknowledged and adored by all. 

An arrangement was made with the present proprie- 
tor of the patriarch's old mansion, to have a suitable 
paling erected around the grave of Potter; and after re- 
solving that another conference should be holden at the 
same place, at such time as should be appointed by the 
Clerk, the Council adjourned. 

The following is an extract from the circular letter 
of the conference : 

e Dearly Beloved Brethren — We have been on a mis- 
sion of love and gratitude. A little band of those who 
have felt that they had been c blessed with faithful Abra- 
ham ' have assembled in the ancient house of our Fa- 
thers, and there c took sweet counsel together 5 con- 
cerning the good things of God. Yv^ e have convened 
around the grave of the venerated Potter and dropped 
a tear of grateful remembrance on the spot where his 
ashes have reposed for near half a century. We have 
united in prayer and praise in the temple where in this 
land was first proclaimed by the sainted Murray, the 
everlasting Gospel of the blessed God, the c Savior 
of all men.' And we have there lifted up our voices 
and endeavored to show forth the boundless Love and 
unchangeable Truth of God, and the £ unsearchable 
riches of his Grace,' in his holy purpose, as revealed 
in the covenant of promise, to bless all the nations^ 
kindreds and families of the earth. 

* This to us has indeed been a season of refreshing 
from the presence of the Lord. We have found our 
feelings chastened and our hearts made better by our 
communion in faith, with the spirits of the venerated 
Dead, who c walked to that house of God in company, 5 
more than sixty years ago. W e have felt it in our 
hearts to 'praise and magnify the great and holy 
name ' of our God, that we were permitted to convene 
in council within the very sacred walls, where 

' Armed with the sword of Jesse's youthful son 
Engaged with ardor in the freedom won 



S12 



ADDENDA. 



By Christ, the anointed Lord of earth and heaven, 
Did Murray boldly tell the boon that's given.' 

c And we would do injustice to our feelings were we 
to omit declaring unto you what we have here seen and 
heard, and inviting our brethren from the East and 
from the West, from the North and from the South to 
unite with us in an annual pilgrimage to this sacred 
spot — this £ Holy Land 5 — in order that we may all 
receive a little of the God-like spirit of Benevolence 
which warmed the soul of that man of God and friend 
of man — Thomas Potter. 

UNITING COMPACT OF THE FIRST UNIVERSALIST SOCIETY 
IN GLOUCESTER, UNDER THE PASTORAL CARE OF MR. 
MURRAY. 

As the first Universalist Society in America was 
organized in Gloucester, Mass., the uniting compact 
becomes a matter of historical interest. We give the 
instrument entire, which will be found characterized 
by a truly catholic spirit. 

£ New England: State of Massachusetts, January 
1st, 1779. 

c Inasmuch as it hath pleased God, of his great mer- 
cy, in every age of the world to choose a people for 
himself, giving them his fear and revealing to them his 
secret; and as this Great Lord of Heaven and Earth, 
the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, hath been pleased 
to reveal unto babes, what he has hid from the wise 
and prudent; We, the subscribers, greatly affected 
with a sense of the Divine Goodness in thus distin- 
guishing us, who had nothing in us to merit his notice, 
think it our interest and bounden duty to 'let our light 
shine before men, that they may see our good works, 
and glorify our Father which is in Heaven. 5 As there- 
fore it hath pleased God to make us acquainted with 
the voice of the good Shepherd, the Lord Jesus Christ, 
the great Shepherd and Bishop of our souls, we cannot 
from henceforth follow the voice of a stranger; nor ever 
give attention to such as are unacquainted with the 
Savior of the world. But though we cannot have 
fellowship with them whose fellowship is not with the 
Father and with the Son Jesus Christ, yet we are de- 
termined, by the grace of God, never to forsake the as- 
sembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some 
is: but as a church of Christ, meet together in his 



ADDENDA. 



313 



name, being persuaded wherever or whenever two or 
three are thus met together, the invisible God will be 
present with them. 

c As Christians, we acknowledge no Master but 
Christ Jesus, and as Disciples of this Divine Master 
we profess to follow no guide in spiritual matters, but 
his word and his spirit. As dwellers in the world, 
though not of it, we hold ourselves bound to yield obe- 
dience to every ordinance of men, for God's sake; and 
we will be peaceable and obedient subjects to the pow- 
ers that are ordained of God in all civil cases; but as 
subjects of that King whose kingdom is not of this 
world, we cannot acknowledge the right of any human 
authority to make laws for the regulating of our con- 
sciences in any spiritual matter. 

6 Thus as a true Independent Church of Christ, look- 
ing unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith, we 
mutually agree to walk together in Christian Fellow- 
ship, building up each other in our most Holy Faith, 
rejoicing in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us 
free, and determining by his grace no more to be entan- 
gled by any yoke of bondage. As disciples of the meek 
and lowly Jesus, we resolve, as far as in us lieth, to 
live peaceably with all men; yet as believers living 
godly in Christ Jesus, we expect to suffer as much per- 
secution as the laws of the country we live in will 
admit of. But we resolve, by the grace of God, none 
of these things shall move us to act inconsistent with 
our characters as Christians. We will, as much as 
possible, avoid vain jangling and unnecessary disputa- 
tion; and should we be reviled, endeavor in patience to 
possess our souls. 

c As an Independent Church of Christ, thus bound 
together with the cords of love, and meeting together 
in his name, — We mutually agree to receive as our 
minister, that is, our servant sent to labor amongst us 
in the work of the Gospel, by the great Lord of the 
vineyard, our friend and christian brother, John Mur- 
ray: This we do from a full conviction, that the same 
God that sent the first preachers of Christ Jesus, sent 
him; and that the same gospel they preached, we have 
from time to time received from him; thus believing 
him a minister of the New Testament, constantly de- 
claring the whole counsel of God, proclaiming the same 
divine truth that all God's holy prophets from the be- 
ginning of the world hath declared, we cordially receive 
him as a messenger from God; and as it hath pleased 



314 



ADDENDA. 



God to open a great and effectual door for the preaching 
his gospel, by this his servant, in some parts of this 
great continent, whenever it shall please his and our 
Divine Master to call hiin to preach the everlasting 
gospel elsewhere, we wish him God speed, and pray 
that the good will of Him who was seen in the bush, 
may accompany him and make his way clear unto him. 
But should he at any time preach any other gospel than 
that which the Apostles proclaimed, we will not wish 
him God speed, but consider him as a false teacher; 
and whereas, the great Lord of the harvest has taught 
us to pray that he would be pleased to send forth labor- 
ers into his harvest, and as he never taught us to pray 
doubting, but has assured us that every one that ask- 
eth receiveth, and whosoever seeketh findeth; and as 
the promise of the divine presence is, to any two or 
three that meet together in the Savior's name, we are 
resolved, by God's grace, whether we are blessed with 
the public preaching of the word or not, as often as we 
find convenient to meet together, to supplicate the Di- 
vine favor; to praise our redeeming God; to hear his 
most holy word, and freely to communicate whatever 
God shall please to manifest unto us, for our mutual 
edification. And that we may more effectually show 
forth his praises, who hath called us out of darkness 
into his marvellous light, we resolve to pay a serious 
regard to his expostulations, admonitions and instruc- 
tions given to us by the spirit of God, in the Epistles 
dictated to our Holy Apostles. We will, as far as in 
us lieth, do good to all men, but especially unto them 
of the household of faith. We will, by the grace of 
God, in word and in deed endeavor to adorn the doc- 
trine of God our Saviour. As children of One Father, 
as members of one head, We, who are bound together 
in christian fellowship, will, once every month, meet 
together to hold conference, and deliberate on whatever 
may tend to our mutual edification and profit. 5 

ORIGIN OP THE GENERAL CONVENTION OF THE NEW 
ENGLAND STATES AND OTHERS. 

The following letter from the Society of Universal- 
ists in Oxford was addressed to the Universalist Society 
in Gloucester. - 
' Oxford, August 28, 1785. 

'The Second Religious Society in Oxford, to Mr- 
John Murray and his Society, sendeth greeting: This 



ADDENDA. 



315 



Society would wish to congratulate you in the most re- 
ciprocal manner, on account of our happy Constitution, 
which tolerates free liberty of conscience to all denom- 
inations of Christians, which cause highly corresponds 
with the rules of the gospel. But as we expect the ex- 
ecutive part of the government will make the most 
scrutinous investigation into the matter, in order to 
know who are to be denominated Christians in the 
Commonwealth; we, being duly sensible that our 
strength depends on our being cemented together in one 
united body, in order to anticipate any embarrassment 
of our constitutional rights, have in some measure or- 
ganized ourselves, that we may be known as a religious 
body. And though it may be acknowledged universally 
that we belong to the spacious family of the great parent 
of the Universe, yet we are like a child without a name. 
And as we have had the happiness of Mr. Murray's 
administrations in this town when we were in a state 
of miniature as to religious knowledge, therefore we 
would wish to correspond with the Society at Glouces- 
ter. And being informed that } 7 ou act upon the princi- 
ple of f universal benevolence, 5 it induces this Society 
most earnestly to desire your friendship and correspond- 
ence and advice; for which purpose this Society have 
appointed an Association to be held at Oxford, on the 
14th day of September next, in order to take into con- 
sideration what measures will be the most conducive to 
the good of the Society at large. For which purpose 
we have also written to Boston, Providence, Sac. desir- 
ing their attendance at the time and place offered. And 
we should be exceedingly happy to w T ait on Mr. Mur- 
ray at the said place, with any of your brethren you 
shall choose. And as your advice and assistance will 
be of much consequence to the society at large, we 
wish for an interview with you. And may the God of 
peace be with you and bless you, which is the sincere 
desire of your friends at Oxford. 

£ Per order 5 Daniel Fisk. 5 

The Society in Gloucester returned the following 
answer. 

c Brethren, 

i The Independent Society of Gloucester have re- 
ceived your friendly epistle of the 28th of August, and 
are glad to express their satisfaction in an opportunity 
to correspond with you on a subject so important as 



816 



ADDENDA. 



that held out by your letter. God and nature have 
made us free, and we hope to enjoy religious liberty by 
right, and not by sufferance. There is no doubt the 
executive and judicial departments of government will 
be attentive to exert and retain all the power they pos- 
sibly can; but we conceive our cause is so closely inter- 
woven with the cause of the other sectarians, we trust 
that no jury will be found so uninformed as not to see, 
that in sacrificing us they destroy themselves. The 
compass of this sheet would be insufficient to detail a 
history of what we have passed through, as well as of 
our present state. A number of pamphlets sent you 
herewith, will in some measure answer that purpose. 

c Had we been a little earlier apprized of your design, 
one of our society would have accompanied our dear 
friend and brother, John Murray, whom we have sent 
on this occasion. We declare ourselves ready to afford 
you all legal, brotherly, and christian aid in our power, 
considering ourselves to be strengthened by our union 
with you. Praying that the Savior of the world would 
afford you freedom, peace, and comfort, we are with 
friendship and esteem, your brethren at Gloucester, 

' Sept. 10th, 1785.' B. H. Hordan. 

The following are the records of the Association at 
Oxford, which met at the time proposed by the society 
in that place, at which meeting Mr. Murray and Mr. 
Winchester were present, and took part in the services 
of the occasion, as stated in this appendix, p. 292. 
The minutes of their proceedings were laid before the 
Society in Gloucester, on the 28th of the same month, 
by Mr. Murray. 

Oxford, Sept. 14, 1785. 

c At a meeting of the " Second Religious Society in 
Oxford," together with Messrs. Elhanan Winchester, 
Shippie Townsend, Abijah Adams, John Murray, 
Francis Liscombe, Daniel Melvil, John Lazeel, Eben- 
ezer Sumner, Noah Wis wall, Samuel French, Caleb 
Rich, and Laban Bates, council from the different re- 
ligious societies corresponding with said society, it was 

Voted, That Mr. Elhanan Winchester be chosen 
moderator of said meeting. 

Voted, That Mr. Danfel Fisk be clerk. 

Voted, That this meeting be adjourned to Thursday, 
the 15th inst. at 9 o'clock in the morning. 

Thursday, Sept. Ibth, 1785. — Met according to ad- 
journment. 



ADDENDA. 



317 



Voted, by the several committees, to adopt the name 
of 6 Independent Christian Societies, commonly called 
Universalists. 5 

Voted, That each of the committees from Boston, 
&c. shall convey to their several societies, together 
with the name adopted, a proposal to consider the pro- 
priety of each society's agreeing not only to be called 
by one name, but to be cemented in one body; conse- 
quently bound by the ties of love to assist each other, 
at any and at all times when occasion shall require. 

Voted, That it be recommended to the several socie- 
ties, that committees of correspondence be appointed, 
to write circular letters, informing them what meas- 
ures they have adopted in three months from the date 
hereof. 

Voted, That the committees propose to their constit- 
uents the propriety of an annual meeting, and that the 
first be held in Boston, the second Wednesday in Sep- 
tember, 1786. 5 

BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE FIRST UNIVERSALIST SOCIETY 
IN THE CITY OF BOSTON. 

The following sketch was furnished for the gratifica- 
tion of General Convention which assembled at Leb- 
anon, N. H. Sept. 15th, 1830. 

In the year 1785, the society of the late Cotton 
Mather sold their place of worship to Shippie Town- 
send, John Stoddard, John Page, Josiah Snelling, and 
others; but there does not appear to be any records 
commenced until January 1st, 1786, when it is recorded 
that various sums of money were collected each sab- 
bath; the first as follows, viz.: c Jan. 1, 1786, by con- 
tribution, £2 Is. Delivered Mr. (Adam) Streeter £2 
Is. Jan. 15th, by contribution, £4 9s. 6d. Delivered 
Mr. (John) Murray £4 9s. 6d. Jan. 22, by contribu- 
tion, £$ 9s. Given between Messrs. Streeter and 
Murray, £3 9s, 5 In this manner the records continue 
until Sept. 12th, 1786, when I find the following: e Re- 
ceived of Shippie Townsend, John Stoddard, James 
Prentiss, John Page, and Josiah Snelling the sum of 
£16 4s. lid. as a contribution from the christian society 
in Boston, for the relief and benefit of the widow and 
children of our deceased brother Adam Streeter, to be 
disposed of for said purpose, according to our best dis- 
cretion, with the advice of the widow. (Signed) Samuel 
Davis, Jr., Daniel Fisk, 5 
26* 



318 



ADDENDA. 



Brother Murray continued to preach from time to 
time, and receive from 2 to £4, by contribution, until 
Sept. 1788, when I find the following record: Sept. 
14th, 1788. Voted, to request Mr. Murray to min- 
ister to us one half his time, or as much as he can, 
consistent with his other engagements.' c Sept. 28. 
Voted, to give Mr. Murray £4 per fortnight, or every 
Lord's day he preaches, or £104 a year.' — The society 
continued to conduct their concerns in this manner un- 
til Feb. 1792, when doubts arose in the minds of many 
proprietors as to the legality of their proceedings. 
Accordingly, a warrant to Messrs. Townsend, Brazier, 
Hicks, Dillaway, and Lane, under the seal of ' James 
Sullivan, justice of the peace, throughout the common- 
wealth,' was obtained, and a meeting called under the 
warrant, March 1st, 1792, which is the first commence- 
ment of a regular record of the proprietors' meetings. 
At this meeting it was voted to give Mr. Murray £4 
per week < until further orders.' — April 5th, 1792. It 
was Voted, to enlarge the meeting-house; but no rec- 
ords are made for several years, excepting at the yearly 
meeting of the proprietors. This year Brother Rich- 
ards supplied the desk in the absence of Brother Mur- 
ray. In 1793, it was f Voted, That Mr. Murray's 
salary be £4 per week.' And, c Voted, That Mr. Rich- 
ards' salary be £3 per week.' This year also, a regu- 
lar sexton was chosen. 

On Wednesday, Oct. 24th, 1793, Brother Murray 
was solemnly installed c Pastor and Teacher of the 
First Universalist Church and congregation,' by deacon 
Oliver W. Lane. April, 1794, Mr. Murray's salary- 
was raised to £5. And in 1795, c Voted, That Mr. 
Murray's salary the present year be 22 dollars each 
sabbath.' In 1796, a regular tax on pews was laid, to 
defray the expenses of the society. No important 
event took place in the society until 1806, in which 
year they were incorporated by an act of the legislature. 
In 1810, Brother Mitchell was installed colleague with 
Brother Murray, and in 1811 the connexion was dis- 
solved. In 1812, the society voted to give brother P. 
Dean a call, and in 1813 he was installed junior pastor. 
In 1815, Sept. 3d, brother John Murray departed this 
life, to dwell with Christ. In 1823, the connexion with 
Mr. Dean was dissolved, and the desk was supplied by 
Brother Winchester and Adin Ballou, until the call 
and settlement of brother Sebastian Streeter, which 
took place in 1824. — From this society in less than half 



ADDENDA. 



S19 



a century, have emanated six societies, who have 
erected for themselves places of worship, in this city 
and vicinity, all of which are as fully attended, if not 
more so, than any other places of worship. 

That God would thus prosper his church throughout 
the habitable globe, is the earnest prayer of your hum- 
ble servant, 

Thomas Kettell, Pro. Clerk. 
Boston, Sept. 1th, 1830. 

P. S. Since writing the above, brother Hicks 
handed me some old papers, among which I find the 
following scrap: 6 March 6th, 1791. The christian 
church commonly called Universalist, celebrated the 
Lord's supper for the first time; the number of twenty 
brethren and nine sisters. It was celebrated after the 
afternoon exercises, when Mr. Murray had entertained 
us through the day from Isaiah xxxv., four first verses. 
The collection was for procuring the elements, and the 
overplus to furnish the furniture of the table after the 
bread and wine; for there remains in the hands of 
Deacon Lane, 8s. Id. 5 

Exact copy, verbatim. T. K. 

mr. Murray's account of his having originated 
the ceremony of dedication. 

On my first appearance in this country, during my 
residence in the state of New Jersey, I was requested, 
as the phrase is, to christen the children of my hearers. 
I asked them what was their desigu in making such a 
proposal to me? When they replied, they only wished 
to do their duty. How, my friends, returned I, came 
you to believe infant sprinkling a duty? c Why, is it 
not a command of God to sprinkle infants? 5 If you 
will, from scripture authority, produce any warrant 
sufficient to authorize me to baptize children, I will 
immediately, as in duty bound, submit thereto. Our 
Savior sprinkled no infant with water: those who were 
baptized by his harbinger, plunged into the river Jor- 
dan, which plunging was figurative of the ablution by 
which we are cleansed in the blood of our Savior — 
but infants are not plunged in a river. 

( Paul declares he w^as not sent to baptize, and he 
thanks God that he had baptized so few: nor does it 
appear that among those few, there were any infants. 
It is not a solitary instance to find a whole household 



ADDENDA. 



without a babe. The eunuch conceived it necessary 
there should be much water for the performance of the 
rite of baptism: all this seems to preclude the idea of 
sprinkling and of infant baptism: and it is said, that 
whole centuries passed by after the commencement of 
the Christian era, before the sprinkling of a single in- 
fant. I am, however, commencing a long journey — 
many months will elapse before my return. I pray 
you to search the scriptures during my absence; and if, 
when we meet again, you can point out the chapter and 
verse wherein my God has commanded his ministers to 
sprinkle infants, I will immediately prepare myself to 
yield an unhesitating obedience. I pursued my journey 
— I returned to New Jersey, my then home — but no 
authority could be produced from the sacred writings 
for infant sprinkling. Still, however, religious parents 
were uneasy, and piously anxious to give testimony, 
public testimony of their reliance upon and confidence 
in the God of their salvation. Many, perhaps, were 
influenced by the fashion of this world; but some, I 
trust, by considerations of a higher origin. 

C I united with my friends in acknowledging that 
when God had blessed them by putting into their hands 
and under their care one of the members of his body 
which he had purchased with his precious blood, it 
seemed proper and reasonable that they should present 
the infant to the God who gave it, asking his aid in the 
important duty which had devolved upon them, and 
religiousLy confessing by this act, their obligation to and 
dependence on the Father of all w r orlds. Yet we could 
not call an act of this kind baptism; we believe there 
is but one baptism; and this, because the spirit of God 
asserts, by the apostle Paul, that there is but one bap- 
tism, and the idea of this single baptism is corroborated 
by the class in which we find it placed. One Lord, one 
faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is 
above all, and through all, and in you all. Ephesians 
iv. 5, 6. After much deliberation I proposed, and 
many of my hearers have adopted the following mode: 
The parent or parents (I am always best pleased when 
both parents unite,) bring their children into the great 
congregation, and stand in the broad aisle, in the pres- 
ence of the worshippers of God. The Father receiving 
the babe from the arms of the mother, presents it to the 
servant of God, who statedly ministers at his altar. 
The ambassador of Christ receives it in his arms, deriv- 
ing his authority for this practice from the example of i 



ADDENDA. 



the Redeemer, who says. Suffer little children to come 
unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven. The 
minister, therefore, taking the infant from its father, 
who gives him, as he presents it, the name of the child, 
proclaims aloud, John or Mary, we receive thee as a 
member of the mystical body of him who is the second 
Adam, the Redeemer of men, the Lord from heaven. 
We dedicate thee to him, to whom thou properly be- 
longest, to be baptized with his own baptism, in the 
name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
Ghost; and we pronounce upon thee that blessing which 
he commanded his ministers, Moses, Aaron, and his 
sons, to pronounce upon his people, saying, 

6 The Lord bless thee and keep thee ; 

c The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be 
gracious unto thee ; 

c The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and 
give the peace. 

' For this procedure we have the command, the ex- 
press command of God. Our reason and our religion 
concur to approve the solemnity, and our hearts are at 
peace. 

< The Lord, we repeat, hath commanded us to bless 
the people; God himself pronounced this blessing upon 
all the people, in the first Adam, when he placed him 
in the garden of Eden, and blessing and cursing came 
not from the same mouth upon the same characters. 
God, our God, is the ever blessing God ; nor are bless- 
ings given only to the deserving. The blessings of 
providence and of grace are freely bestowed upon the 
evil and the unthankful; and when the evil and the 
unthankful obtain the knowledge of this truth, they 
earnestly sigh to be good, to be grateful. 

' But the ever blessed God, not only blessed the peo- 
ple in their first general head, but in that seed which 
is Christ. In thy seed, said the Lord Jehovah, shall 
the families, all the families of the earth be blessed. 
This was a royal grant. We are not, in general, suffi- 
ciently attentive to this particular. It is common to 
talk of being blessed by, and some say, through Christ, 
but few, very few, ever think of being blessed in 
Christ.'—Sketches, fyc. ii. 366 — 368. 

See also { Letters and Sketches, 5 iii. 345. 



iNLEX. 



Adams, President John, invites Mr. Murray to preach on the 
voyage from England to America, 237. 

Alton, England, the birth-place of Murray, 10. 

America, Murray's first idea of visiting, 129. 

Bath, arrives at, 71; is entertained by the hay maker, 72; preach- 
es here, 73. 

Belief, the object of, interesting dialogue upon, 100. W 
Boston, Murray's first visit to, 192; his reception, 192; preaches for 

the first time here, 195; second visit, 197; is attacked by Rev. 

Mr. Bacon, 172 ; controversy with Croswell, 203, 209 ; is stoned m 

Croswell's pulpit, 209 ; is installed pastor of the Society here, 242. 
Boston, First Universalist Society in, 242; its history, 317. 
Calvinism, a half century ago, what, it was, 275. 
Chatham, Earl of — Murray's lines upon the death of, 261. 
Class Meetings of Methodists, how conducted, 23. 
Convention General of Universalists of N. E. States and others, 

229; Origin of, 314; Records of, 316; Murray's Sermon at, 

292. 

Convention of Universalists in Philadelphia in 1790, letter to 

Gen. Washington, 239, 240. 
Cork, Murray visits, 64. 

Croswell, Rev. A. slanders Murray in the papers, 203; is an- 
swered, 204; his conduct in relation to Murray, 204, 205, 206. 
Dedication of infants introduced by Murray, 244. 
Dunham, Rev. M. friend to Murray, 157. 

England, Murray's father leaves, 16; Murray's return and arrival 

in 1778 from America, 233. 
Factory, in Boston, Murray preaches in, 195. 
Faneuil Hall, preaches in, 198. 

Gloucester, Mass. Murray visits the first time, 203; second time 
210; views it as his home, 212; his measures to relieve the jn- 
habitants, 216; conduct of Committee of Safety, 216; Dedica- 
tion of Universalists' Meeting house here, 220 ; formation of a 
church, 220 ; views of ordination, 221 ; their property is attach- 
ed for the support of orthodoxy, 222; the church bring an ac- 
tion to recover, 222; Messrs. King, Sullivan and Tudor Coun- 
sel for Murray, 224; the Universalists appeal to the public in 
relation to the case, 224; case finally settled in favor of the 
Universalists, 228; the eloquence of Sullivan on the occasion, 
227; the opinions and conduct of Judge Dana, 227; petition 
to the legislature in favor of Murray, 230 ; he receives a cer- 
tificate of ordination, 234; instrument of compact, of the socie- 
ty, 233; renewal of ordination, 238. 

Greene, Gen. correspondence with Murray, 254. 

Grash, Rev. A. B. extract from his discourse, 270. 

Hitchins, Rev. Mr. by his arguments Murray is led to adopt the 
doctrine of Universalism, 111. 

Hopkins, Rev. Mr. his journey and dialogue with Murray, 169; 
writes against Relly, 277. 

Ireland, Murray's removal to, 17; leaves for England, 69. 

Jones, Rev. Thomas, his conversion and settlement at Gloucester, 
241. 

Little, Mr. his conversion to Methodism, 32; he adopts Murray 
as his son, 49; Murray excites his displeasure, 69. 



INDEX. 



323 



London, arrival of Murray at, 75; his arrival there in 1788 from 

America, 236. 
Lord's Supper, the views of Murray, 243. 

Mason, Pres. of a Society 103; attempts to refute Kelly's Union, 104, 
Methodists Meetings, manner of Conducting them, 25. 
Mitchell, Rev. E. agrees with Murray, 268. 
Mob, dispersed by Muiray, in London, 

Murray's father , an Episcopalian, 10; removes to Ireland, 17; 
joins the Methodists, 17; his sickness, 40, death-bed prayer 
for his son, 41 ; his character and attainments, 43 — 44. 

Murray's Mother, a Presbyterian, 10. 

Murray, John, his ancestors, when born, is baptized by an Epis- 
copalian minister, 10; fear of his father, 12; removes t Ire- 
land, 16; visits London, 16; quits London for Bristol, \Q- 
escape from a boat 16; made wretched by a sermon, 20; ap- 
pointed leader of a class, 23; is regenerated and becomes au 
object of attention and regard, 23; difficulty with a priest, 
27; confirmed by the Bishop SO; receives the attention of 
Weslev, 80; becomes acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Little, 
32; becomes attached to Miss Dupee, 33, 34; writes a love 
letter, 35; is sick with a fever, 39; prays with his father, 
42; loses his father, 42; takes the place of his father in the 
family, 45; pleads a case at court, and gains his case, 48; 
is adopted by Mr. Little, 49; preaches for the first time, 50; 
is accused of being dishonest, a singular mistake, 51 ; is the 
object of envy, 52; is reproved for absence by Mr. Little, 53; 
determines to leave for England, 53; is surprised in an inter- 
esting predicament, with Miss Little, 54; resolves to quit the 
family of Mr. Little, 55; changes his mind, 57; leaves the 
scenes of his youth, 59; visits his mother, 59; receives the 
blessing of his mother, 61; leaves for Cork, 62; he contem- 
plates the scenes of his youth, 63; visits his grandmother in 
Cork, 64; is invited to repair to Limerick, 65; hears Mr. 
Whitfield and becomes muchaitached to him, 66; lea\es Cork, 
67; arrives in England, 69; attends meetings in Bristol, 71; 
leaves for London, 71 ; is entertained by a Hay Maker, 72; 
preaches in Bath, 73; reaches London, 75; forms convivial 
connexions, 77; becomes embarrassed, 78; hears Whitfield 
and resolves to quit dissipation, 80; pays all his debts, 85; 
introduced to Miss Neale, 90; his love for her, 93 is mar- 
ried to Miss Neale, 9S conversation with a young wo- 
man, 100; seen Relly's Union, 106; hears Mr. Relly, 109; is 
summoned before the church, and excommunicated, 112; has a 
son and loses him, 114; loses his wife, 117; arrested for debt, 
122; is relieved by Win, Neal, 126; his friendship for Relly, 
128; thinks of visiting America, 129; meeting and parting 
with his mother, 130; Sails for New-York, 131 ; arrives in the 
Delaware, 134; first interview with Potter, 136; is invited to 
visit New York, 152; visits New Jersey, 153; is abused by 
Rev. Mr. Tennant, 160; receives the present of a coat, 164; 
arrives at Newport, 172; consents to preach, 175; is accused, 
176; invited to Philadelphia and to Maryland, 178; singular 
interview with a Physician, 181; is invited to visit Boston, 
189; arrives in Boston, 192 ; visits Newburyport, 195; visits 
Portsmouth, 197; visits Pennsylvania, Jersies and New York, 
200 and 201; has an egg thrown at him, 203; conduct of com- 



324 



INDEX. 



mittee of safety by whom Murray is summoned, 216; is or- 
dained at Gloucester, 220 leaves for England, 236^ reaches 
London and meets his mother, 236; leaves for America, 237; 
returns to Gloucester and is re-ordained, 238; visits^Philadel- 
phia, 240; consents to settte in Boston, 241; is crippled by 
disease, 246; his death. 250; his power of persuasien, 251 ; 
his morality, 252; co^espondence with Gen. Greene, 254; his 
political sentiments 260; compared with Calvin, Luther, and 
Wesley, 270; l»'s social character, 274 ; compared with Win- 
chester, 278: his views of a future state, 281. 
Neale, Miss J&tiza, becomes acquainted with Murray, 90; gains 
his aff^tions, 91 ; receives his addresses, 92; her* grandfather 
is d'M^ased and disinherits her, 93; she leaves his house, 97; 
is married to Murray, 98; is sick, 114; parting with her hus- 
oand and happy death, 117; his affectionate remembrance of 
her, 124, 127,133, 150. 

Neal, Wm. kindness to Murray, 97, 125. 

Newport, arrives at, 172. 

Oxford, Mass. first Gen. Convention of Universalists at, in 1785, 
228; Sermon at by Mr. iMurray, 292. 

Parker, Noah, is converted to Universalism, 212. 

Peck, Thomas Handaside, receives Murray on his arrival in Bos- 
ton, 192. 

Potter, Thomas, first interview with Murray, 136; persuades him to 
preach, 138; his pleasure in hearing him, 144; his grave is visit- 
ed by Murray, 301 ; his character, 304; further particulars, 306; 

Relly, Rev. James, is heard by Murray, 108; Murray sees his 
'Union 5 for the first time, 106; his friendship for Murray, 128; 
urges him to preach, 128. 

Sacred writers, all Universalists, 297. 

Salvation, in what way the effect of faith, 100 ; Murray's views of 279. 
Sargeant, Winthrop, of Gloucester, patron of Murray, 201; 203. 
Sermon,b\ Murray, in 1785 at first meeting of Gen. Convention, 292, 
Stiles, Rev. Ezra, 175. 
Still, Rev. Mr. slanders Murray, 186. 

Sunday, how kept in the family of xWurray's father, 18 — 19. 

Tennant, Rev. Mr. abuses Murray, 160 — 1-2. 

Thomas, Rev. A. C. his account of Murray's landing. 

Trinbath, Mr. is visited by Murray, 67; is deserted by his wife, 
77; Murray hears of her in New- York, 165; attempts to re- 
claim her, 165. 

Trinity, Murray's belief in, 264. 

Tucker, Rev. Mr. entertains Mr. Murray, 73. 

Tyler, Rev. John, friend to Murray 186. 

Universalism, the first effects of, 276. 

Universalists, condemned by Murray before his conversion,. 102. 
Varnum, a friend to Murray, 177, 213. 

Washington, President, Committee of the Universalist Convention 

Philadelphia address him, 239; his reply, 240. 
Wesley, Rev. John, attention to Murray, 22; is idolised by the 

Methodists, 37; opinion of the Calvinists, 76. 
Whitfield,' Rev. Geo. seen by Murray for the first time, 66; Murray 

becomes much attached to him, 76. 
Winchester, Rev. Elhanan, preached at the General Convention, 

Oxford, Mass. 1785,228; agrees with Channcy, 229; Murray's 

regard for him, 291; differs from Murray, 278, 297. 



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